Chapter One: What the Hell is That?A Chapter by Aurora LynnEach case is worse than the last.DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS, NOR AM I WRITING THIS FOR MONETARY GAIN OF ANY KIND. THIS IS PURELY FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF MYSELF AND THE VIEWERS OF CRIMINAL MINDS.
Spencer Reid was, as he usually did in the mornings, drinking a cup of coffee when he got a text from Hotch that they had a new case. He sighed in response, more disappointed than surprised. Life just wouldn't be the same if a case didn't come up that made him drop everything and rush to the BAU. It wasn't like he had a life outside of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. In fact, he was already in his car heading to Quantico to check in when he got the text. He probably wouldn't know what to do with himself if he had a less demanding jobs with semi-normal hours.
Drinking down the last of his coffee with a gulp, he didn't feel any more awake than he did before he started it. That was another thing this job did to people; the more coffee he drank, the less it affected him. It was like any drug dependency, which made Reid wince just thinking about. The more you ingest of a chemical, whether heroine or caffeine, the more of that substance you needed to get the desired effect. He would need another cup before the briefing if he was going to be awake enough to be of use to the team.
He glanced at the clock in the car as he parked his car. In the text, Hotch had said that everyone needed to be there at 8:00 to start the briefing. The clock said 7:59. Of course the one day I am actually able to sleep in a little bit is the day it's going to make me late, he thought as he got out of the car, doing a half jog half run to the bullpen. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was late, because as he walked over to the coffee pot to pour himself another cup of coffee he heard a very familiar voice behind him. "What? I actually come into work at the same time as Dr. Spencer Reid? I must be dreaming."
Without turning around, Reid smiled and said "Good morning, Morgan," completely ignoring his friend's teasing. He had learned that sometimes it was best just to keep his mouth shut.
"What is that, your fifth cup this morning?" Derek Morgan asked.
"Actually, this is only my second," The younger agent replied, motioning to his now empty mug. "I'll need the extra caffeine for this next case."
"Have a tough night?" Morgan asked, even though he knew what the answer would be. Almost every day they went through the same routine, and every day he got the same results.
"Not really, just a bit tired," Reid said, not exactly lying. But not telling the entire truth either. "Caffeine doesn't affect me as much as it used to. It's probably do to the fact that I've been drinking a lot of it. The more caffeine you ingest, the less of an effect it has on your body, so you need more and more of it to have the same result. And I've been drinking a lot of coffee lately." He thought about continuing his train of thought when he realized he was probably boring and annoying the fellow agent. Instead, he started to pour the coffee into his cup.
Morgan had long since stopped paying attention to exactly what Reid was saying, more focused on whether or not he would press with his questioning. It was obvious that he hadn't been sleeping well; the dark circles under his eyes didn't lie. Normally, Morgan would have pressed further, but the pressure of a tight schedule prevented him from doing so.
Instead he said "Well, hurry up with that coffee. We're already more than five minutes late for the briefing, and you know what Hotch gets like if we're late." He paused. "Oh wait, you don't, 'cos you're always early."
Reid stirred his coffee slightly with the straw and poured a scoop of sugar in it. "Speaking of being late, have you seen Prentiss today? I didn't see her in the bullpen..."
"Nope," Morgan replied. "Which is weird, because she's always almost as early as you are."
"Maybe she texted Hotch telling him she was going to be late," Reid offered, scooping the rest of his usual five scoops of sugar. "Although it isn't like he to be late at all." Hesitating for a moment, he decided to put a sixth scoop in just for good measure.
Morgan started walking to the briefing room with his young friend following close behind. "I'm sure she'll turn up soon. In the mean time, Hotch and Gideon really want to get working on this case as soon as possible."
"Did they say why?" Reid inquired between sips of his coffee.
"Nah, you know Hotch," Morgan answered. "He doesn't like to talk about hte case before the briefing. Never could understand why." Arriving at his destination, he opened the door to reveal Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, and Jennifer Jareau sitting at the table, waiting for them.
"Nice of you two to show up," said Gideon slyly, looking up at them.
"Sorry," Morgan said, taking a seat. Reid took the spot next to him. "We would have been here sooner, but Genius Boy needed his coffee fix."
'Genius Boy' didn't do or say anything to deny this statement. Instead, he just sipped his coffee. "Have you seen Prentiss?" Hotch asked. "The briefing should have already begun."
Both of the agents shook their heads. "No, we haven't," Reid said. "We were hoping that she texted you. Have you tried calling her?"
"I will if she doesn't show up in ten minutes. Meanwhile, let's start the briefing. She can get caught up on the plane."
Taking this as her cue, JJ stood up and started handing everyone case files, leaving the extra one in the empty chair for Prentiss. Pressing one of the buttons on her remote, the picture of a young woman, probably twenty-seven, appeared on the screen. She was long, luxorious blonde hair and startling blue eyes. "Two weeks ago, Samantha Coolidge was found naked and dead in a local park near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. When the locals found her, she had many cuts located in her abdomen in the shape of a picture."
Reid looked up from the case file momentarily to look at JJ. "A picture?"
She nodded sadly. "Yes, a picture. You'll understand it better if I showed you." She pressed a button on her remote again, and another picture appeared on the screen. It was an enlarged picture of Samantha's abdomen, with many cuts as JJ had said. It depicted a large butterfly, wings stretched wide, flying in the wind. The work was done by a master, skillfully done with no mistakes or smudges. Parts of the skin seemed to be carefully scraped away, causing parts of the butterfly to appear shaded.
No matter how many gruesome things the team had seen, everyone reacted when this picture was shown. Reid adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, getting a closer look at the picture. Morgan adverted his eyes for a second, only to look back at the picture again moments later. Gideon leaned back and looked at the board with renewed interest, gazing intently. Even Hotch, forever stoical, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
While the team reacted to the picture, the last remaining agent entered the room, breathless. "I'm so sorry I'm late," Emily Prentiss said, not looking at what was on the board. She sat down in the only remaining seat. "I left the house later than I usually did, and traffic was terr-" By this point she looked up to see what was on the screen and completely lost her train of thought. Flustered, she tried to find her words again, but found that she couldn't. Instead, she settled for "What the Hell is that?"
"Our next psycopath decided to carve a moth on our victum," Morgan explained. "Actually, that's not a moth, it's a butterfly," Reid said, unconsciously showing his extense and sometimes overbearing knowledge. "It's easy to confuse the two, but butterflies have larger wings and thinner bodies than moths do. Though, some species of moths do try to imitate butterflies and other animals to protect themselves-"
"Okay, okay," Morgan said, sorry he said anything in the first place. "Our next psycopath carved a butterfly on our next victum. Better?"
"That's not all he did," JJ said, pressing a button on her remote. A different girl appeared, this time with dark brown hair and deep green eyes. "Two days ago, Nicole Jacombe was found in a flower garden, also stripped of her clothes. She had similar cuts on her abdomen, this time showing a picture of a peacock." Another button was pressed and the peacock appeared on the screen. It was obvious it was done by the same person; the type of cuts were the same, small and detailed. If anything this one was even more beautiful, if that was the word for it. Although the reactions were somewhat muffled this time, the team still reacted.
Hotch was the first one to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the group. "Could we be looking at a cult here? I mean, carving pictures onto the bodies, we can't ignore the signifigance of that."
"I highly doubt that," Prentiss said, staring intently at the picture. "What cult do you know of likes butterflies and peacocks?"
"Okay," Morgan said. "Then what about a sadist? Maybe this guy takes pleasure in the pain that having these pictures carved onto them causes."
"That's not it either," Reid said, looking at his case file. "It says hear that the cuts were caused after they were already dead. They found extreme ammounts of carbon monoxide in their systems, and that looks like the cause of death. Carbon monoxide posioning is reletively painless; it actually puts the victem to sleep before they die. Not the first choice if the UnSub wants to cause the victems pain."
"So if this guy's not part of a cult, or a sadist, then exactly what are were looking at here?" Morgan asked.
No one really had an answer for that. They just sat there, looking at each other uncomfortably. Finally Gideon spoke, speaking for the first time since the picture was shown. "We're looking at an artist." © 2011 Aurora LynnAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorAurora LynnA Box Inside My HeadAboutNOTE: I have taken down all of my original writings due to plagurizing issues/fears. But I have reposted my fanfictions (for all of you Doctor Who/Criminal Minds fans) for all to read. I cannot guaran.. more..Writing
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