Hello dear readers! Thank you for all the support! Please don't forget to review and follow the story. I try to update as often as I can. Just a fair bit of warning. This chapter will be rated M so please be aware of that. Nothing major of course, but we are starting to get into a little blood and gore. Please enjoy. It is almost time for the games to begin.

Chapter 6

Clarice was walking down the street with two grocery bags in hand. It was night out and the evening air was cool. She walked with a baseball cap on, a light jacket, and jeans. All those walking around her were completely unaware of who she was. She liked being invisible for once. It gave her a new perspective and outlook on how everyone moved around her. She felt like she had a better sense of the overall picture by not feeling like she had to be a piece in the game. She felt beside herself this evening. She wondered why. She still felt like Clarice Starling, just…different somehow. She had killed the police officer who was taking her in to custody that night. She felt bad about it but knew there was not another way. It had to be so. She did what she had to do to survive, was that so wrong? When she graduated from the academy she swore an oath, just like everyone else at the FBI had done. They were supposed to look after each other and help each other. But instead she found they were jealous of her. Various people tried to accuse her of things she didn't do. Why? She caught Buffalo Bill as a student while active agents couldn't accomplish it. She spoke to Hannibal Lecter at length without being frightened or scared when others would practically wet themselves after leaving his company. She was the best marksman they had. She was all the things they could not be and they hated her. She could not understand this feeling. She was happy for others when they accomplished things, but clearly this was not a two way street. Paul Krendler tried to blackmail her to get in her pants. She had recorded their conversation on the phone and turned it in to her superiors. While they told Krendler to leave her alone, they had never done anything to punish him. Well with the exception that Krendler's wife found out and promptly left him. He hated her for that ever since. He would send her on the worst cases. Well, not him personally he was not her superior in her own department, but he had connections and everyone allowed it. Even her friend Ardelia, who worked in a different unit was usually too busy to hear her out. Jack Crawford had become increasingly ill, and when she tried to approach him about what to do, he simply replied with, "Lay low, but keep your head up Starling." Such generic advice. How many times had she been shot for the FBI? How many times had she seen a better way to execute a plan, but was hushed up and told to do it differently? Then finally, that day at the fish market when John Brigham died, she felt completely defeated. He shouldn't have died that day. But they crucified her again and again, and her biggest support came from the most unlikely source in Hannibal Lecter. He had sent her a letter of encouragement, gave her a chance to find him, and in turn, after she saved his life, he carried her out of that barn and stitched her up. Starling knew that if she had done that for anyone at the FBI they would have escaped and left her to die. Most likely turned into some martyr for her hard work. He could have left her, But there was no hesitation on his part. He picked her up and saved her. He took her out of there and stitched her up. She vaguely remembers waking up during the surgery and seeing his face. He would tell her to sleep now, that she is safe. And she believed him. The next time she opened her eyes she saw her lamb standing above her.

Was I his lamb? Or was he mine? Or neither?

Then she was downstairs and saw Krendler's brain exposed. She shed a tear and gagged. Not at the blood and gore, but she felt sickened that she actually was happy that this man, who had made her suffer was finally gone. Was it wrong to feel such relief? Especially when he tried to touch her over and over again without her consent. She was sure that if Paul wasn't so scared of her that he would have tried to rape her long ago. But he was scared of her mouth running and telling the world. He could not scare her into intimidation. No. Every single time she stood firm, ready to fight. She was happy that night and it disgusted her. She tried to catch Hannibal, she could have just brought her gun and shot him, but she didn't. She didn't even consider the thought. She could shoot him, she could kill him, but she would not do it. She wasn't sure what she was trying to accomplish that night. Maybe it was just the strings of her old life keeping her attached. Maybe deep down she had hoped that she could still get that recognition and that promotion at work, but that was not it. She just knew to go through the motions, to do what she was supposed to do. The good guy, the bad guy, she was supposed to catch him. But somewhere along the way she lost that fine line with him. What was he to her? It frightened her to think of him this way. She knew she couldn't kill him, but could he? No he took his own hand that night instead of harming her. But when they finally meet again, what is going to happen? Will they tear each other apart into nothingness, or will they find some peace? She did not know, nor did she care. All she knew was that their paths were destined to cross again. Only this time, it would be on her own terms.

A faint scream broke the silence of the night. She looked around. Others seemed to ignore it. Whatever it was, it was brief and only lasted for a moment. She caught, in the corner of her eye, a man wrapping his arm around a girl tightly and walking her down an alleyway. She could see the glint of a knife at her side, tucked in between them. Starling followed at a distance.

The woman tried to scream but he clamped his hand over her mouth, "Shut up bitch!"

She screamed her muffled cries into his hand. He began ripping her shirt with his knife. Her breasts were exposed in the cool night air. He began unzipping his pants and slid them down just to his thighs.

That was as far as he got when he heard the click of a gun from behind.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"That is not what is important. What is important is that you obey every word I say. Understand?"

He tried to turn his head a fraction and he was met with a swift hit from the backside of a gun.

"I didn't tell you to move. I told you to listen. Honestly, do you only think with one thing?"

Starling brought out a knife and placed it against his hard member. He shrieked as a little blood trickled down his leg.

Starling smiled, "Ah, now I have your attention. You have a gun at you head and my knife at that filthy thing in between your legs. Now you will listen. First apologize."

He began to cry, "I am sorry!"

"Good. Next you seemed to have ruined her blouse, take off your shirt and give it to her."

Clarice backed up to give him room to take his shirt off. He then handed it to the woman and she grabbed it and ran.

"Turn around."

He turned. Clarice could see most of him now. He was a very physically fit man with dark brown hair and green eyes. He looked to be in his late 20s to early 30s.

"Please, it won't happen again. Just let me go."

"You are right. It won't."

It was not until the next morning the man was discovered in a nearby garbage bin with his penis severed and shoved in his own mouth. The police were called immediately and they questioned everyone they could find. The woman gave a brief statement, but kept her comments vague saying she couldn't really remember because she was so scared. She was thankful for Starling, and she wasn't about to turn her in so willingly. Not that it really mattered, that night, Clarice left and had moved on to the next city. She was ready to begin the game with Lecter. Unbeknownst to them both, Will was about to join in as well.