There's only going to be one chapter left in this story! I hope y'all enjoyed the ride that we were on!
Another story that I was asked to do! I hope you all like it!
Warnings: Violence, Sex, Jane as Red John, Angela Jane bashing (I don't know why I wrote it like this, but I did).
If you want to be kept up to date with redos on stories or want to know more about stories that will be started soon or even ask me to write a story for you please follow me on Facebook under SilverMidnight52! I own nothing!
Whistling happily Patrick slowly walked into the seemingly abandoned building. He knew that the men that had been there before were long gone. No one was stupid enough to stick around when they knew he was coming. Not after last time.
That was the thing about trying to get power. At first everyone tried to fight you. They thought they knew better. They thought they were stronger. It was always so much fun to watch them fall because of their own stupidity.
Patrick was no exception to that. When he first started everything with Red John it was by himself. He had no one around that would even give him the time of day. Hell, the police thought they could catch him.
One killing after another after another after another and soon people were taking notice of him. It wasn't just the fact that they were gruesome killings. In truth he wasn't a huge fan of blood. Especially when it got on him.
He had to make a statement. One that no one would be stupid enough to try to fight. That meant that he had to prove he was not just ruthless but smart. It wasn't as if that was difficult for him to do by any means.
Patrick was perfectly okay with doing what needed to be done to get his end goal. He was also smart enough to know that that wasn't going to happen over night. He had to be slow and calm to get everything he dreamed of.
Then people started to truly take notice of him and what he did. Oh, that had been one of the best days of his life. He had waited for so long for people to realize just who he was and he finally had that. Which lead him to step two.
It was nice having people recognizing him for everything, but that was never his end goal. He wanted an empire to rule over. One filled with people that thought they were better than everyone else. Thought they were untouchable. They always fell the hardest.
A little push here and a few cunningly disguised words there. The poor little souls never knew what hit them until it was too late to even think about fighting him. Not that anyone ever really fought him. It was as if they were begging for him to take them over.
He could still remember the first person to join him. The man had thought himself so strong and in charge. He was the Sheriff after all. There was no one that could go up against him unless they wanted him to go after everything of theirs.
The man was corrupt though. He couldn't be trusted to to watch a plant let alone an entire town. Which was where Patrick came in. It was so easy to get the man to believe that he could give him everything he wanted and more.
It wasn't a lie either. That was exactly what the faux-psychic had done. He gave the man money and power. He showed the man how to be feared by everyone, including his family. Then he watched the man self-destruct until his 'suicide'.
Which of course gave him the perfect opening. The town needed a new Sheriff and he had the perfect person in mind. The man's oldest son. The one that helped his dear old dad hold the gun in his drunken state when he killed himself.
He had no idea that Patrick had orchestrated the whole thing. All he knew was that without Red John he and his younger siblings would still be under the thumb of that hideous man. He owed Red John for freeing him and pay he did.
After that it was almost too easy to build a network of people to join him. They never knew what he looked like, he wasn't stupid, but they knew exactly what he could do. Some because they had seen the aftermath he left; some because they had felt his blade themselves.
It didn't matter to him how exactly they knew him. All that mattered was that they were his to commanded and they knew it. He didn't take disobedience lightly. If they strayed from his side than they were taken care of swiftly and painfully.
He was proud of his organization now. He was unstoppable and everyone knew who he was. All because of a little bloody smiley face. Who would have thought something so childish could bring so much fear to another.
Right now that didn't matter though. He had a job he had to do. One that he wasn't going to let anyone else do. This was personal for him. Hell, he wasn't even going to let anyone know that it was a Red John killing.
A wide smile was on his lips as he walked into the living room and saw a man chained to a wall trying to get away. He looked so small and helpless now that he didn't have the shadow of night hiding him away.
"Hello," Patrick greeted clasping his hands behind his back.
"Let me down you son of a bitch," the man cursed glaring angrily at the faux-psychic.
Chuckling deep in his throat he moved towards a table and looked at all the little toys that had been left for him. There were so many things to choice from. After a moment he picked up a small paring knife and moved to stand in front of the man.
"That wasn't very nice," Patrick whispered his smile curling into a snarl.
Thrusting his hand forward he buried the knife in the fatty part of the man's hip. A surprised scream left his lips as he tried to move away from the weapon. He had nowhere to go though. No chance of escaping the man.
With a shake of his head the faux-psychic pulled his hand away from the knife leaving it buried in his victim. It wasn't as if the wound was going to kill him. They still had a long way to go before they got there.
Turning around he picked up another knife and held it up. The chained up man's eyes followed the glint of the weapon a shaky breath leaving his lips. It was finally clicking in his mind that he wasn't going to make it out alive.
"Why are..." he tried to start only to have Patrick's hand shoot out once more and bury the new knife in his shoulder.
Laughing loudly Patrick took a step back and cocked his head to the side looking over the other man. The ideas he had to make him scream were racing through his mind and he couldn't decide what to do first.
With a soft hum he turned back towards the weapons. He had all night to do whatever he wanted. There was no chance that he was going to pass up the opportunity to do cause harm to someone.
"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me anything," Patrick stated with a smirk picking up another knife, "Do you? But if you want to talk we can. How about we start with why you thought it a good idea to shoot mine."
"I don't..."
Rolling his eyes he thrust the knife into the man's thigh before reaching for another. He had learned long ago exactly where he had to hit and stab to keep his victim alive and in pain. Learning that was the best money he had ever spent.
"You shot someone that belongs to me," Patrick growled out running the blade down his face watching the blood pool to the surface, "No one touches mine."
Lashing out in anger the man started to slash at his victim listening to his screams fill the house. It wasn't often that he lost control over his emotions. It was dangerous to let his emotions lead when he had so much to lose.
Pulling back he stood there panting just in time to see the man pass out. Blood was starting to pool on the ground which brought a smile to his lips. He might not like blood, but the man deserved it for what he did.
Taking a deep breath he looked down at himself and groaned at what he saw. He really hated blood. It was damn near impossible to get off after he did whatever it was he wanted to do. It was rarely worth the time. Unless it was for Kimball. Nothing mattered more than him.