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casbooks · 2 years ago

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Books of 2023

Book 15 of 2023

Title: NCIS History Special Agent VietNam Authors: Douglass Hubbard Jr. ISBN: 9780915266333 Tags: A-1 Skyraiders, AUS Catherine Anne Warnes (Murdered) (Vietnam War), CH-46 Sea Knight, CIA Bill Bludworth, CIA Foster Fipps, CIA Robert Gambino, CIA William Colby, H-34 Choctaw, HH-3E Jolly Green Giant, HKG Hong Kong, HKG Royal Hong Kong Police, John F. Kennedy, KHM Cambodia, KHM General Lon Nol, KHM Khmer Rouge, KHM Kompong Som, KHM US MSTS SS Columbia Eagle Incident (1970) (Vietnam War), KHM US MSTS SS Mayaguez Incident (Vietnam War), LAO Laos, LAO Nong Khai, LAO Vientiane, Law Enforcement, Military Intelligence, Military Police, Nungs, OV-1 Mohawk, OV-10 Bronco, PHL US USAF Clark Air Force Base, PHL US USN Naval Station Sangley Point, PHL US USN NCSA Philippines, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, President Lyndon B. Johnson, PRK North Korea, RUS VMF Russian Navy, RUS VMF Submarine Force, SGP Singapore, SpecOps, THA Bangkok, THA RTAFB Don Muang Royal Thai Airbase, THA Thailand, THA USMC MCAB Rose Garden/Nam Phong (Vietnam War), True Crime, UH-1 Huey, UK MI6/SIS Secret Intelligence Service, US Alvin Glatkowski (Mutineer) (Vietnam War), US Ambassador Henry Nolting, US Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge, US Ambassador Maxwell Taylor, US AP Malcom Brown (News), US Bob Hope (Entertainer), US CIA Central Intelligence Agency, US Clyde McKay (Mutineer) (Vietnam War), US DEA Drug Enforcement Agency, US Edwin Ross Armstrong (Defector), US Horst Faas (News), US Maw Maw (Black Power Organization), US MSTS Military Sea Transportation Service, US NBC Garric Utley (News), US Project 100000 (Vietnam War), US Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, US Special Agent Basic School - Washington DC, US Students for a Democratic Society, US USA 101st Airborne Division (Screaming Eagles), US USA 199th Light Infantry Brigade (Redcatchers), US USA 23rd ID (Americal), US USA ASA 8th Radio Research Station, US USA ASA Army Security Agency, US USA CIC Army Counterintelligence Corps, US USA General Creighton Abrams, US USA General William Westmoreland, US USA Green Berets, US USA Kitsie Westmoreland, US USA MI 525th Military Intelligence Group, US USA MI Army Military Intelligence, US USA Special Forces, US USA United States Army, US USAF General Robert Rowland, US USAF OSI Office of Special Investigations, US USCG United States Coast Guard, US USCG USCGC Chase (WHEC-718), US USMC 12th Marines, US USMC 1st Light Antiaircraft Missile Bn, US USMC 1st MarDiv, US USMC 1st MAW, US USMC 3rd MarDiv, US USMC 3rd Marine Counterintelligence Team, US USMC 4th Marines, US USMC 4th Marines - 3/4, US USMC 5th Marines, US USMC 7th Engineer Bn, US USMC 7th Marines, US USMC 9th Marines, US USMC General Herman Nickerson, US USMC General Leonard Chapman, US USMC General Lewis Walt, US USMC General Paul X. Kelley, US USMC General Robert Cushman, US USMC Major Les Barrett (Provost Marshall), US USMC Major Roger Simmons, US USMC Marine Security Battalion, US USMC Robert Garwood (Defector) (Vietnam War), US USMC Salt and Pepper (Defectors) (Vietnam War), US USN Admiral Earl F. "Rex" Rectanus, US USN Admiral Robert S. Salzer, US USN Commander Joseph Rochefort, US USN Construction Battalions (Seabees), US USN LtCdr John G. "Jack" Graf (POW) (Vietnam War), US USN MSC Military Sealift Command, US USN Naval Security Group, US USN NCSA Naval Counterintelligence Support Activity, US USN NCSU Naval Counterintelligence Support Unit, US USN NISO Naval Investigative Service Office, US USN NISOSF San Francisco, US USN NISRA Naval Investigative Service Resident Agency, US USN NISSU Hong Kong, US USN NISSU Naval Investigative Service Satellite Unit, US USN ONI Office of Naval Intelligence, US USN SEALS, US USN UDT Underwater Demolition Team, US USN USS Blue (DD-774), US USN USS Card (AKV-40), US USN USS Hampden County (LST-803), US USN USS Pyro (AE-24), US USN Washington Navy Yard, USAF Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Service (ARRS), USMC 1st Force Recon Co, USN Admiral Elmo Russell "Bud" Zumwalt Jr, USN Admiral Jerome H. King, USN HA(L)-3 Seawolves, USN NIS Naval Investigative Service, USN PBR Patrol Boat River, USN PCF Patrol Craft Fast Swift Boat, USN US Navy, USN USS Pueblo (AGER 2), USN VAL-4 Black Ponies, VNM 1968 Tet Offensive (1968) (Vietnam War), VNM 4th Coastal Zone, VNM An Hoa Basin, VNM An Long, VNM AN Thoi, VNM Annamite Mountains, VNM Arizona Territory, VNM ARVN General Hoang Xuan Lam, VNM ARVN General Nguyen Chanh Thi, VNM AUS ADF Australian Army Training Team (Vietnam War), VNM Ba Sac River, VNM Battle of Hue City (1968) (Tet Offensive) (Vietnam War), VNM Battle of Khe Sanh (1968) (Tet Offensive) (Vietnam War), VNM Battle of Saigon (1968) (Tet Offensive) (Vietnam War), VNM Ben Hai River, VNM Ben Tre, VNM Ben Tre Province, VNM Binh Thuy, VNM Bright Light Operations (Vietnam War), VNM Buddhist Monk Thich Tri Quang, VNM Ca Lu, VNM Cam Lo, VNM Cam Lo River, VNM Cam Ranh Bay, VNM Camp Eagle (Vietnam War), VNM Camp Evans (Vietnam War), VNM Camp Reasoner (Vietnam War), VNM Can Tho, VNM Carrier Pigeons (Vietnam War), VNM Cau Mau Peninsula, VNM Charlie Med, VNM Chau Doc, VNM Cholon - 95 Nguyen Duy Duong St, VNM Cholon - Five Oceans BOQ, VNM Cholon - Hong Kong BOQ, VNM Cholon - St. Francis Xavier Church, VNM Cholon Provost Marshalls Office (Vietnam War), VNM Chu Lai, VNM CIA Air America (1950-1976) (Vietnam War), VNM Con Thien, VNM Cua Viet, VNM Da Lat, VNM Da Nang, VNM Da Nang - 20 Duy Tan Street, VNM Da Nang - 23 Doc Lap, VNM Da Nang - 23 Doc Lap Bar (Boom Boom Room / Blue Elephant) (Vietnam War), VNM Da Nang - Bridge Ramp (Vietnam War), VNM Dai Lac, VNM DMZ Demilitarized Zone - 17th Parallel (Vietnam War), VNM Dodge City, VNM Dong Tam, VNM DRV NVA General Vo Nguyen Giap, VNM DRV NVA North Vietnamese Army, VNM DRV VC Phung Ngoc Anh - Dragon Lady (Assassin) (Vietnam War), VNM DRV VC Viet Cong, VNM Emperor Bao Dai, VNM Fall of Saigon (1975) (Vietnam War), VNM FSB Ryder (Vietnam War), VNM Gia Dinh, VNM Go Noi Island, VNM Green Beret Affair (Vietnam War), VNM Hai Van Pass, VNM Haiphong, VNM Han River, VNM Hill 327, VNM Hill 37, VNM Hill 55, VNM Hill 621 (Son Tra Mountain) (Monkey Mountain), VNM Hill 65, VNM Ho Chi Minh Trail, VNM Hoi An, VNM Hue, VNM Hue - Hue University, VNM Hue - Le Loi Street, VNM Hue - Purple City, VNM Hue - The Citadel, VNM Hue - The Forbidden City, VNM Hue - Thua Thien Provincial Headquarters, VNM I Corps (Vietnam War), VNM II Corps (Vietnam War), VNM IV Corps (Vietnam War), VNM Kien Hoa Province, VNM LBJ Long Binh Jail - USARVIS US Army Vietnam Installation Stockade (Vietnam War), VNM Leatherneck Square (Vietnam War), VNM Liberty Bridge, VNM LZ Baldy, VNM Mekong Delta, VNM Moc Hoa, VNM Montagnards, VNM My Khe Beach (China Beach), VNM My Lai, VNM My Lai Massacre (1968), VNM My Tho, VNM Nam Can, VNM Nguyen Cao Ky, VNM Nguyen Van Thieu, VNM Nha Be, VNM Nui Mot (The Rockpile), VNM Nui Son Ga (Charlie Ridge), VNM Operation Market Time (1965-1975) (Vietnam War), VNM Operation Sea Float/Solid Anchor (1969-1973) (Vietnam War), VNM Operation Starlite (1965) (Vietnam War), VNM Parrots Beak, VNM Perfume River, VNM Phouc Tuong (Dogpatch), VNM Phu Bai, VNM Phu Quoc Island, VNM Plain of Reeds, VNM Port of Saigon, VNM Quang Ngai Province, VNM Quang Tri, VNM Que Son Valley, VNM Qui Nhon, VNM Rach Gia, VNM Red Beach Base Area (Vietnam War), VNM Route 1, VNM Route 4, VNM Route 535, VNM Route 9, VNM Rung Sat Special Zone, VNM RVN ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam, VNM RVN ARVN MP Quan Canh Military Police, VNM RVN ARVN MSS Provincial Military Security Service, VNM RVN ARVN RF/PF Regional Forces/Popular Forces (Vietnam War), VNM RVN General Duonh Van Minh (Big Minh), VNM RVN Marines, VNM RVN MSD Military Security Directorate, VNM RVN Ngo Dinh Diem, VNM RVN Ngo Dinh Nhu, VNM RVN RVNP Can Sat National Police, VNM RVN RVNP Police Chief Colonel Nguyen Van Luan, VNM RVN RVNP Treasure Fraud Repression Unit, VNM RVN SVNAF Da Nang Airbase, VNM RVN SVNAF General Nguyen Ngoc Loan, VNM RVN SVNAF South Vietnamese Air Force, VNM RVN VNN LDNN Lien Doi Nguoi Nhai Navy Frogmen, VNM RVN VNN LLHT Luc Luong Hai Thuyen Navy Coastal Force / Junk Force(Vietnam War), VNM RVN VNN Republic of Vietnam Navy, VNM RVNP CSDB Can Sat Dac Biet Special Branch Police, VNM Saigon, VNM Saigon - 98 Phan Dinh Phuong Villa, VNM Saigon - Brink BOQ (Vietnam War), VNM Saigon - Capital Kinh Do Theater, VNM Saigon - Caravelle Hotel, VNM Saigon - Cercle Sportif Saigonnais, VNM Saigon - Chi Hoa Prison, VNM Saigon - Continental Hotel, VNM Saigon - French Fort, VNM Saigon - Le Lai BEQ, VNM Saigon - Plantation Road, VNM Saigon - US Embassy (Vietnam War), VNM Saigon Provost Marshalls Office (Vietnam War), VNM Soi Rap River, VNM SOM SS Yellow Dragon Incident (Vietnam War), VNM Song Tu Cau, VNM Tam Ky, VNM Tan Chau, VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base, VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base - Defense Attache Office (Vietnam War), VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base - Grey House (Vietnam War), VNM Thach Han River, VNM Thu Bon River, VNM Thua Thien Province, VNM Thuan An, VNM Tien Sa Peninsula, VNM Tu Cau Bridge, VNM U Minh Forest, VNM US CIB Combat Information Bureau - Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USAF Air Force Advisory Group (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC AHCB An Hoa Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC CAG Combined Action Group (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC Camp Horn (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC CAP Combined Action Platoon (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC DHCB Dong Ha Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC ECB Elliot Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC FLC Force Logistic Command (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC III MAF Marine Amphibious Force (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC KSCB Khe Sanh Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC MMAF Marble Mountain Air Facility, VNM US USMC QTCB Quang Tri Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC VCB Vandergrift Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Camp Tien Sa (Vietnam War), VNM US USN CBMU 301 (Vietnam War), VNM US USN CBMU Construction Battalion Maintenance Unit (Vietnam War), VNM US USN COMNAVFORV Commander of Naval Forces Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Da Nang Officers Club - Stone Elephant (Vietnam War), VNM US USN HSAS Headquarters Support Activity Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Ben Luc (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Logistic Support Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Nha Be (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NAF Naval Air Facility Cam Ranh (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Naval Communication Station Cam Ranh (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSA Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSU Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSU Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISOV Naval Investigative Service Office - Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISRA Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Cam Ranh Bay (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Chu Lai (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Quang Tri Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Vung Tau (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSA Naval Support Activity - Da Nang (White Elephant) (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSABT Naval Support Activity Binh Thuy (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSAD Naval Support Activity Detachment - Cua Viet (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSAD Naval Support Activity Detachment - Thuan An (Vietnam War), VNM US USN River Patrol Boat Flotilla Five (Vietnam War), VNM Vietnam, VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975), VNM VNN VNI Vietnamese Naval Intelligence, VNM VNN VNNSB Vietnamese Navy Security Bloc, VNM VNN VNNSS Vietnamese Navy Security Service, VNM Vu Gia River, VNM Yankee Station (1964-1973) (Vietnam War) Rating: ★★★★(4 stars) Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Naval, Books.True Crime

Description: “NCIS History-Special Agent Vietnam is a comprehensive account of naval counterintelligence and criminal investigations in Vietnam. Doug Hubbard's first-hand experience provides unique insights into this little explored topic of the war, and the addition of a broad spectrum of his photos complements the narrative with a real life appeal. In an era when the term "terrorism" was not yet in vogue, NIS' investigations of insurgent attacks against US troops is a grim reminder of current threats our military faces in Afghanistan and around the globe on a daily basis.” Michael Sulick, Former Director, CIA National Clandestine Service “Although the Viet Nam War gives up its secrets grudgingly, former special agent Douglass Hubbard unveils an intriguing account of U.S. Naval Intelligence operations in the Republic of Vietnam. Drawing on his three years’ service in Vietnam and his subsequent research and interviews, Hubbard weaves a masterful story with 'NCIS History Special Agent Vietnam' that is equally inspiring and frustrating-just as the war itself proved to be.” Colonel Joseph H. Alexander, USMC. (Ret.) author of the Battle History of the U.S. Marines “Doug Hubbard Jr. explores the seamy underside of the Vietnam War from his ‘catbird seat’ as a special agent of the Naval Investigative Service. At the most there were never more than twenty-one of these Naval Intelligence officers serving in-country, and they had to deal with an overload of such unsavory matters as counter espionage, sabotage, black marketing, currency manipulation, simple theft, drug trafficking, subversion, rape, and murder. Sometimes these investigations came to a brilliant resolution that Sherlock Holmes would have applauded. More often they foundered because of command apathy or indifference.” Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, USMC, Chief of Staff of the First Marine Division in 1970, former head of the Marine Corps History Branch, and author of Frozen Chosin: US Marines at the Changjin Reservoir “Doug Hubbard’s exposition with NCIS History Special Agent Vietnam defines a period of counterintelligence development in the Vietnam conflict and records its events for the first time. Compiled personal recollections of wartime special agents make this historical narrative a defining work in the legacy left by the group of Naval Intelligence professionals who devised rules for counterintelligence and force protection in the challenging and dangerous arena of Vietnam in the 1960s. Theirs was a monumental contribution to the U.S. government’s efforts to achieve stability in the Republic of Vietnam, particularly in the early days of the mission when much was accomplished by a select few.” Maynard C. Anderson, former Assistant Deputy Undersecretary of Defense for Security Policy

Review - It was a decent book with a lot of historical information on the Vietnam War and NIS's members. The main problem with the book was how light it was on actual cases vs pages and pages of commentary of who was assigned when and where. Another major issue were the multiple misspellings (Viet Congo is a common one) and repeated paragraphs. It's not unreadable, but it had issues. But for the historical information, and a few insights into deserters, fraggings, and a few interesting cases, it's worth a read.

#Books #Ebooks #Booklr #Bookblr #vietnam war #us navy #nis #ncis #nonfiction #history #military history

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formerleopard · 6 months ago

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Más párrafos de ese capítulo 4 de Profit Over People, Noam Chomsky

Más párrafos de ese capítulo 4 de Pofit Over People, de Noam Chomsky. Libro sobre neoliberalismo, el capítulo se titula Market Democracy in a Neoliberal Order.

Esto es un ejercicio de traducción y un intento (modesto) por difundir información sobre la política exterior de un Imperio genocida. En este capítulo, Chomsky hace énfasis en la devastación del Consenso Washington en Centro América y el Caribe, en particular en Nicaragua y Haiti.

Client states enjoy similar privileges. Thus, commenting on yet another of Israel’s attacks on Lebanon, foreign editor H.D.S. Greenway of the Boston Globe, who had graphically reported the first major invasion fifteen years earlier, commented that “if shelling Lebanese villages, even at the cost of lives, and driving civilian refugees north would secure Israel’s border, weaken Hezbollah, and promote peace, I would say go to it, as would many Arabs and Israelis. But history has not been kind to Israeli adventures in Lebanon. They have solved very little and have almost always caused more problems.” By the pragmatic criterion, then, the murder of many civilians, expulsion of hundreds of thousands of refugees, and devastation of southern Lebanon is a dubious proposition.

Bear in mind that I am keeping to the dissident sector of tolerable opinion, what is called “the left,” a fact that tells us more about the victorious principles and the intellectual culture within which they find their place.

Estados clientes disfrutan de privilegios similares. Así, al comentar sobre otro de los ataques de Israel en Líbano, el editor en el extranjero del Boston Globe, H.D.S. Greenway, que había reportado gráficamente la primera invasión mayor quince años antes, comentó que “si bombardear villas libanesas, aún a costo de vidas humanas, y desplazar a civiles hacia el norte diera seguridad a la frontera con Israel, debilitara a Hezbollah, y promoviera la paz, yo estaría de acuerdo con ello, como lo estarían muchos árabes e israelíes. Pero la historia no ha favorecido las aventuras israelíes en Líbano. Han resuelto muy poco y casi siempre han causado más problemas”. De acuerdo con el criterio pragmático, entonces, el homicidio de numerosos civiles, la expulsión de cientos de miles de refugiados y la devastación del sur de Líbano resulta una propuesta de valor cuestionable.

Debe tenerse presente que me estoy refiriendo al sector disidente de la opinión tolerable, lo que se ha dado a llamar “la izquierda”, un hecho que nos dice más sobre los principios victoriosos y la cultura intelectual en la que encuentran su lugar.

Also revealing was the reaction to periodic Reagan administration allegations of Nicaraguan plans to obtain jet interceptors from the Soviet Union (the United States having coerced its allies into refusing to sell them). Hawks demanded that Nicaragua be bombed at once. Doves countered that the charges must first be verified, but if they were, the United States would have to bomb Nicaragua. Sane observers understood why Nicaragua might want jet interceptors: to protect its territory from CIA overflights that were supplying the US proxy forces and providing them with up-to-the-minute information so that they could follow the directive to attack undefended “soft targets.” The tacit assumption is that no country has a right to defend civilians from US attack, a doctrine that reigned virtually unchallenged in the mainstream.

También resultaron reveladores los alegatos periódicos de la administración Reagan a los planes de Nicaragua de obtener de la Unión Soviética interceptores aéreos (Estados Unidos había presionado a sus aliados para que se negaran a vendérselos). Hawks exigió que Nicaragua fuera bombardeada de inmediato. Doves argumentó que antes las acusaciones debían ser verificadas, pero de ser ciertos, Estados Unidos tendría que bombardear a Nicaragua. Observadores congruentes fueron capaces de entender las razones por las que Nicaragua querría interceptores aéreos [de naves supersónicas]: para proteger su territorio de sobrevuelos que proveían a las fuerzas vicarias de Estados Unidos con información depurada hasta el último minuto para que pudieran seguir las instrucciones al atacar “blancos vulnerables” indefensos. La suposición tácita es que ningún país tiene derecho a defender a civiles de ataques estadounidenses, una doctrina que ha prevalecido virtualmente sin desafío en la corriente de opinión dominante.

The pretext for Washington’s terrorist wars was self-defense, the standard official justification for just about any monstrous act, even the Nazi Holocaust. Indeed Ronald Reagan, finding “that the policies and actions of the government of Nicaragua constitute an unusual and extraordinary threat to the national security and foreign policy of the United States, declared “a national emergency to deal with that threat,” arousing no ridicule.”23 By similar logic, the USSR had every right to attack Denmark, a far greater threat to its security, and surely Poland and Hungary when they took steps toward independence. The fact that such pleas can regularly be put forth is again an interesting comment on the intellectual culture of the victors, and another vindication of what lies ahead.

El pretexto para las guerras terroristas de Washington fue la defensa propia, la justificación oficial acostumbrada para cualquier acto monstruoso, incluso para el Holocausto perpetrado por los nazis. Así, Ronald Reagan, determinando que “las políticas y acciones del gobierno de Nicaragua constituyen una amenaza inusual y extraordinaria para la seguridad nacional y la política exterior de los Estados Unidos, declaró “una emergencia nacional para lidiar con esa amenaza”, lo cual no fue interpretado como un argumento absurdo. Con una lógica similar, la Unión de Repúblicas Soviéticas Socialistas habría tenido todo el derecho de atacar a Dinamarca, una amenaza mucho mayor a su seguridad, y seguramente a Polonia y a Hungría cuando tomaron medidas encaminadas hacia la independencia. El hecho de que tales argumentos puedan ser usados con regularidad constituye una vez más un ejemplo representativo sobre la cultura intelectual de los vencedores, y otra justificación para lo que nos aguarda en el futuro.

#noam chomsky #neoliberalismo #nicaragua #israel #líbano #hezbollah #h.d.s. greenway

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irishfederalreconnaissance · 7 months ago

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The Family Support of the Vietnam War

Pasha (Charlebois):

Diane: MI-6 airways, out of Amsterdam; support through D-Company, into Thailand, out of Bengal.

Michael: Raytheon NFL, out of Attleboro; the jeweler's industry, as fomenting the Jets-Patriots rivalry, to prevent MI-6 from favoring the Steelers as the league chaplins, MI-6, instead of the Jets as league stewards, NYPD.

Steven: Vatican CIA, out of California; the saviorship, of Chinatown, as an anti-rape movie, and with it, the other films, the Vietnam War veteran support of female roles for male rapists, out of the frame of Roman Polanski, as police lieutenant Charles Manson, and the switch of identities.

Ellen: DC Comics African Poverty Fund, and the saviorship of the Batman title, outside of Mossad holding, and instead inside British calumny, the Wayne Family written as the Falcones, the Charleboises.

Sullivan (O'Neill):

Gene: The support of the Sino-Soviet Split, through President Nixon, and the sales of the Stretch Armstrong figure, to Cambodia.

Marie: The study of rare autists, produced by Japan, "The Greys", and the prevention of the MI-6 myth of alien invasion, through MUFON.

Roberta: The NSA housing fund, for irregular soldiers, as engineers, to counter any infiltrator in an unit, as requesting alcohol and liquor, otherwise murdering the failure to violate Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous protocols; such protocols, being Saudi and Malay.

Evelyn: The trans-axis between Texas, and Tennessee, through Alabama. The State Police office, in rare insects, "bugs", to be hunted by arachnids.

Danny: The formation of "The Cult of Subgenius", to hunt Che Guevera and library cops, those police officers and operatives working out of factories and warehouses, seeking prisoner inmate labor as slaves, to train transgender surgeons for male republics out of France.

Timmy Jr.: The practice of maps and trails finding, in Vietnam, to counter Nixon's attempt at killing the police services, with sperm steals and game theory modeling, through primitive video games, later film and tobacco reference inside Nintendo Systems.

Jimmy: The chaplin stewardship, of Indochina, into the Boston prostitution scene, dominatrixes and dominants, the latter gay, to women, female submissives; spread to Indochina, with trail shootings of Catholic ARVN priests, for Australian MI-6; infiltrated inside the Marine Corps.

Francis: The use of ultraviolet spectroscopes, to analyze schizophrenic birth defects, from police officer marriages, outside of the actual parents; the loss of the "childhood sweetheart" policy, of the Freemasons, to philosophy texts; the modification of "Awake" magazine, "The Watchtower", to "Dr. Spock", the falsely marked Gadze child, a politician with no bearing for being German Homesteader.

Alice: The SIS MI-6 sniper's corps; DEA, on a five person team, lead by Sanjay Gupta, interdicting IDF cocaine dealers out of Colombia; service to the Colombian Army, against sweatshop labor, in garments districts.

#hard candy

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zooterchet · 8 months ago

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NATO Organizations (Intelligence)

United States:

CIA: Jurisdiction of accounts, as punishable by death, for violating federal, state, and local system.

FBI: Writers of enemies, as superhero, Goebbels print, with honest information of background, with villains, as CIA agents.

ATF: Cashiers and grocers unions, as holding liquor, cigarettes, and DMV licenses, oversight from highway commission.

DEA: Print of cartoons, with central popular character, as police arrest, unless excused by impossible role combined with hero.

NSA: Privacy of records, phones, wireless, computers, schools, and military, otherwise SIGINT designed system to force masturbation left handed, prison bitch for HUMINT ROTC runner, OP-INT gun homicide to lawyers supporting, Air National Guard fighter-bombers and gunships to compound in disagreement, and Cyber Command military commissars deployment to strip township or municipal or social movement of taxes funded of state province, to poverty and starvation.

British Commonwealth:

SIS: Freedom of worker taken in false suit of labor, to free to incentive and salary, not wage and contract.

KKK: Protection of business of region, if father or mother having taken soldiers in indemnity of forced collusion, by birth parents; otherwise, homosexual, party requesting purged, by Office of Naval Intelligence, most humiliating and painful requisition possible, by political tie, against Africans and American military tradition.

SOE: Military "boatsmen", Sports League, military weapons tradition of sports leagues and factory unions, outside of warehouses and convenience stores, left to French, convict labor, unless with sexual molestation in prison, lethal death at highest pain and brutal slaying of families involved, as "Hebrides-Union", Iranians, Klan, Clan, Panthers, Posse, or Bund.

MI-6: Roma population, if non-homophobe, serial killers, to be executed by State Police, for support of "Gay Rights", LGBTQ rights, against Navy, all associated, to be placed in prison, for federal incarceration, for siding against family morals and heterosexual wedlock, slaughter and rape and murder, eating of flesh for being outside Catechism, "Muslim" or any variation invoking "Islam", a homosexual pederast.

MI-5: Cinematographer or Psychiatrist, the temporary role given cracking of foreign method of business, "Arab", an Israeli or Iraqi or Saudi system, to be reversed given common print, unless political backer to be proven defeated in NATO war, then all members to be given "Star of David" tattoos, purge victims, a Zionist, a homosexual defecatent of support.

British Army: Military forces drawn from colonials, criminals, "career soldiers", believing in draft, conscript, and hoax, against all NATO forces beliefs, placed in containment camp as homosexual criminals, with kidnapped wife, inbred, with joining member rejected from Irish Mafia, choosing Italian honors instead (illegal, the Mafia a teachers, corrections, or police service, of informant or direct civil service, against common incarcerants, those attempting to infiltrate military programs of ROTC, placed inside "gender studies", for prison chaplins, "Russian", "Church of Satan").

Royal Air Force: Criminal operations, given funding of military programs through pork, cigarettes, alcohol, beer, liquor, marijuana, LSD, candy, pizza, delivery services, or beef, any other service, shown to be criminal, the seizure of information resources, by an enemy, regarded as "COBRA", Canadian insurance for police and teachers, so court dates will be had, seizures of profits and resources and manpower, children placed in "Autism Speaks", to receive lobotomies, "Down's Syndrome".

His Majesty's Navy: Isaac Arab Caucasian, or Jewish Turkish Gentile programs, for Naval leadership, of officer's grade, Annapolis Naval Academy, run in joint with America, Canada, Ireland, Britain, and France, outside of Germany, enlisted Naval academies, exploratory funding, submarine corps.

Sheriff's Commission: Politician's deacon, opposite to politician's mandate; mercenary policy forces, of Act, forcing out of political barrister of election, or Law, pre-existing legislature, but not Pact, a criminal, law enforced declared as treason, in some charge considered capital, hence execution, capital punishment.

Japanese Yakuza: Dealerships for cars, boats, oil, fuel, sales, merchandise, snacks, food, restaurants, manufacturing, and toys, through produce of independent print, inside structure of origin, to support sales by "hero" placed as failure of program to graduate, "villain" as potential victory as protagonist, antagonist as anyone disagreeing with preferred classification of own individual as character, fluid and variable; otherwise, abusive to work standards, a child molester parent, to be culled.

Freemasonic Temple: British-Jewry, those in convicts status, as actors, actresses, thespians, directors, and writers, with local undercover badge, working at high pay to produce teaching set; if defrauded, under wire fraud laws, any claiming falsely, as having testicles or breasts removed.

French Collectivity:

External Security: Representative of French ruling leader, in forced removal of those refusing French Hanseatic, Naval investment.

Foreign Legion: Replicated formula, in foreign intelligence service, election of leader, as having been bred young; if betrayed, then full incarceration, and election of leader, as Mason, otherwise if cheated, then French found as Cowards, Arabs.

Deuxieme Bureau: Counting of enemy soldiers, as own soldiers, to ply across media sklein, to surrender from war, if homespace disturbed, that of civilian, regarded as anti-war, by homosexuals; those assuming that service, is support.

Republic of Ireland:

IRA: MI-6 contacts, cut off from banking, for terror acts against civilians, those under command of Taoisch as uprising culpable, unless blocked, the child performing so to a Roma, to be rendered transgender by own hand, at accusation of child molestation to Protestant.

Orange Order: South African Boers, held in prison by British infantry, death camps, those claiming to be Jews, to be rejected, as having prior suffered, before MI-6 agent Adolf Hitler, slaughter of Iranians as Jews, actual bloodline, cohabiting with Hebrew language, by design of Kazakhstan, Japanese Mafia, Yakuza.

Sinn Fein: British liquor investment, in cigars, cigarettes, beer, ale, pilsner, lager, IPA, hard alcohol, and cider, through stores managed by trade partner of British Isles.

Federal Republic of Germany:

Counter-Terror: Quaker Oats investment, the spying on General Mills, to produce Chinese tanks, out of Prudential Life.

Church of Latterday Saints: The draft of unwary ethnicities, as submissive and servants, having believed "God" to be a minister, not the father's monastic, the nationality's method, and the own idea of power, the personal relationship with "Jesus Christ", the criminal; the self-accusation of pedophile, then refusal, to clear any notation of wrongdoing, Judaism, the same as Islam.

Italian Papal:

Carabinieri: The practice of criminal affairs, Congregationalist, as supporting government; elite police forces, hunting mercenary intelligence, as having committed a crime, unless outside of felony, and cooperating.

Priesthood: Contract killers, having joined to avoid a priest's gunsight, the confession booth; the raising of children, inside priesthood, as Vatican Boys, outside of Jewish molestation, DSS, attaining orphanage for children instead; if refusing, hate crime, if hate crime refused, then charity labor cut off for country, no more town accountants or investment to police union children.

Deacons: Those of politicians staff, detectives and police sergeants, to perform paperwork, out of orphanages and wives convents, to tolerate prostitution, their mothers and fathers not being such, but stolen by those women preferring arrogance as labor, having believed superior, due to lesbian identity; the defender of homosexuals, those claiming aggrieved, when not, a missionary, those suicide chaplins given overseas to remove drugs, to enemy.

Turkey Nationalist:

Journalist Corporatist: Those saluting the enemies of the country, as friends, and the successful soldiers, as famous monsters, the political greats of our times.

Carpentry Party: Those with seized FBI files, for the rebirth of the Shriners, MI-6.

Spanish Castillian:

Aragorn: Those Umayyads born to Jude and Rabbi, the business interest of fast food chain, the employ of Presidencies, the Fraternal Bankers Association.

Fascists: Those in service to Catholicism, at such force that the author dies out, for seeking to serve in war, without Confirmed Church status, the immunity to hard liquor; otherwise, a Prohibitionist, a police advocate however military, Hitler.

Caribbean Castroist:

Cuba: The no-fly zone, an uninhabited country to block Venezuala, the Soviet Union.

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netmassimo · 11 months ago

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Il romanzo "The Media Murders" di Lee Gimenez è stato pubblicato per la prima volta nel 2016. Fa parte della serie di J.T. Ryan. È inedito in Italia.

Quando Mark Parker, un giornalista vecchio amico del vicedirettore dell'FBI Erin Welch le racconta che sta indagando su una storia davvero grossa legata a omicidi eccellenti nel mondo dell'informazione, la donna non sa cosa pensare. Quando l'uomo muore in quello che sembra un incidente, Welch comincia ad avere qualche sospetto.

J.T. Ryan riceve da Erin Welch l'incarico di indagare con discrezione su quella strana storia, che diventa ancor più sospetta quando un altro giornalista apparentemente si suicida. Quando Homeland Security prende in mano l'indagine tagliando fuori l'FBI in modo completo, le preoccupazioni aumentano notevolmente e Welch si rivolge a un suo contatto nella CIA.

#thriller #romanzo #recensione

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best24news · 2 years ago

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SI रणबीर सिंह Murder : मर्डर आरोपी दोषी करार, कल सुनाई जाएगी सजा

हरियाणा: धारूहेडा सीआईए प्रभारी सब इसंपेक्टर रणबीर सिंह हत्याकांड में एडिशनल सेशन जज डा. सुशील कुमार की कोर्ट ने एक बदमाश को दोषी करार दिया है। इसके अलावा मामले में शामिल दो आरोपियों को बरी कर दिया गया है। दोषी बदमाश को शुक्रवार 14 अक्टूबर को सजा सुनाई जाएगी। 2018 में हुआ था मर्डर: 15 नंवबर 2018 को धारूहेड़ा सीआईए-2 के इंचार्ज सब इंस्पेक्टर रणबीर सिंह को सूचना मिली थी कि शराब ठेकेदार की हत्या और…

View On WordPress

#CIA Dharuhera news #CIA SI Murder #Ranbir singh CIA Dhr #CIA #Dharuhera murder news #sentencing tomorrow #SI Ranbir Singh Murder: Murder accused convicted #SI रणबीर सिंह Murder #एडिशनल सेशन जज

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thaissa1918 · 7 years ago

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I'm ready to work for the KGB..IF MI6 DOESN'T WANT ME. ANYTHING IS,BETTER THAN RESIDING IN THE USA BUT NORTH KOREA.

Jill Starr

#jeremy paxman jill starr #jeremypaxman #irv starr attempted murder one on jeremy paxman and his daughter #ephraim hardcastle former mi6 boss apologises tearful appearance bletchley park memorial #cia confession in part #cia codes into plain english online #mi5 mi6 sis cia howard andre parker jill starr irwin starr larry macdonald mi6 director general howard andrew parker chas t main

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inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

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The Marvelous Misadventures of One: S. Marvin Argentum Ch. 3: In the Pit

Summary: Marvin realizes he’s in a bit too deep as the time continues to tick on.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Techno seemed to notice Thompson was in the club and instantly raced from the club and up the stairs, almost shouldering past people to get to the Sheriff.

“Sherman! Sherman!”

“Tech,” the huge burly man grumbled, crossing his arms in front of him. “I thought I saw yeh[1] slipping inta[2] town. What brings yah[1] over here?”

“I found a legate and it was awful!” Techno lamented, basically ignoring him, the two of them basically the same towering height.

Sherman rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, the fight lasted five seconds?”

“There wasn’t even a fight,” Techno complained. “I mean, bruhhh, he barely could defend himself. A dead leaf would have been a more satisfying fight.”

“So he’s dead?” Thompson asked.

“No, it would have been like killing a newborn puppy,” Techno huffed. “Come on, get in the pit so I can have a good fight.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Thompson scoffed and pushed Ghostbur towards the front. “Just bringin’ yer brother to yeh.”[3]

Techno looked annoyed, “Ghostbur, what are you doing here?”

“I’m helping my friends,” Ghostbur smiled.

“I’ve seen what your “help” does,” Techno rolled his eyes. “You here for Phil then?”

Ghostbur looked nervous, “I . . . uh . . . I would like to see him but I don’t know.”

“Did you bring some of the heroes with you?” Techno was looking at Marvin.

“Yah[1] know, we’ll go, we just caught yeh[1] at a bad moment,” Marvin tried to intervene.

“What are you three even doin’[4] here?” Techno leaned against the balcony railing, another fight starting up in absence of Techno.

“We were gonna[5] pick a fight with the Legionnaires’ Guildmaster, but Ghostbur here took us ta[6] see the Sheriff o’er[7] here. So we’ll just go.” Marvin jabbed his thumb at the exit.

“Taking ‘em[8] on, huh? ‘Bout[9] time someone did.” Techno hummed. Then he looked at Ghostbur and nudged him towards the other side of the balcony where the VIP area was. “Hey Ghostbur, why don’t you go say hi to Phil. He’s probably seen you already, so just head on over.”

“Wait a second,” Marvin moved to follow Ghostbur who was already moving to the VIP area.

Techno summoned and axe and moved in-between Ghostbur and Marvin.

“Look, you two make one wrong move against Phil and I’ll take your heads off,” Techno threatened.

“Not lookin’ fer a fight, I want ta get out ‘a here with Ghostbur an’ take care ‘a the hunters up north,”[10] Marvin told him firmly.

Techno braced his axe on his shoulder, “Just watch yourself.”

Ghostbur rushed over to the door and Marvin followed him, Techno opened the door for them.

“Phil!” Techno called out over the loud music. “We got company.”

Philza reached for the remote and turned the music down to a low whisper.

“Techno!” the little girl called out.

“Hey sis,” Techno smiled, walking over to her and kneeling down so the two of them could bump foreheads. “Enjoy the show?”

“You murdered them dead!” She screamed. “Blood for the Blood God!”

“That’s right, good job kid,” Techno smiled.

“Hey Ghostbur,” Philza greeted tensely. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Oh, he’s still in Brighton,” Ghostbur smiled. “He and Tubbo are having so much fun.”

“Right,” Phil kicked his feet up and stood. “Good fer[11] them.”

“You might wanna[12] know, Quackity’s here,” Techno told Philza, “I saw him when I was in the pit.”

“Okay,” Phil remarked as if he really didn’t care either way.

“I think I saw Fundy and that one slime guy with him,” Techno added.

Phil’s good wing puffed up, “Shit! Shit!”

Ghostbur gasped, clearly ecstatic, “What? Fundy? He’s here?”

Phil raced across the room and hit the intercom button, “Fundy! You furball, get yer[13] ass up here this instant! I wanna[12] know where you are!”

“Oh, Marv, have you met Fundy?” Ghostbur was floating a bit off the ground. “You have to meet him. He’s my son.”

“I think I have,” Marvin answered, more than a little surprised by that information.

Techno loudly cleared his throat. “So while we’re waiting for Fundy and probably Quackity to show up, you mind tell me what brings you to Arizona? Last I checked, Egoton was in Chicago, or something like that.”

“We were gonna[5] deal with the Legionnaires, but Ghostbur said he knew someone so we took a detour,” Marvin explained. “Really we should’a[14] stopped at the station, but we’ll go.”

“You needed allies, you two are alone,” Phil said in a way that made Marvin feel like the avian was staring through his very soul. “Why go fer[11] ‘em[15] now? The hunters have been bigger problems before?”

Marvin weighed his options. “Cause they’re workin’ with the CIA an’ Dark’s nemesis. An’ they’re gonna crash a weddin’.”[16]

Techno started bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking like a small child that had been gifted a full sized robot suit for Christmas.

Phil, however, let out an indignant, insulted huff, “Oi![17] Did that fooker[18] replace me an’[19] Tech with some other bastard? How dare he‽”

“Man, is there anyone Dark hasn’t pissed off?” Marvin chuckled.

“Seems ta[6] be a much shorter list ‘a[20] who he hasn’t,” Phil smiled. “Phantom taught him really well in that regard.”

“Huh,” Marvin commented. He realized that for being two demons of roughly the same age, supposedly, and being the same type of demon that Philza and Dark were kinda opposites. “So yeh[1] on the same hatin’[21] human trend as he is, never met a demon that was particularly nice.”

“Nah,” Phil smiled. “I love humans, they make the best things like anime, an’[19] memes, an’[19] the word: “fuck”. So I love humans.”

“How old are you?” Taylor asked.

The avian demon shrugged, “I don’t count keep anymore. 350? Almost 400? I don’t know.”

At that moment the door opened and Marvin stepped out of the line of fire as Fundy walked in, Quackity and Slime right behind him.

Quackity stiffened nervously when he locked eyes with Techno,

“Fundy,” Ghostbur smiled as he started to advance. “My little champion. How are you?”

Fundy hissed, all the hair on his head and ears standing on edge. “You touch me, and I bite you.”

“Hey, chill out fer[11] five seconds will yeh[1]?” Marvin snapped back. “He hasn’t done anythin’ ta yeh.”[22]

“Oh, he’s done more than enough,” Fundy snapped.

Techno spoke up, “Where’s Tubbo? This gonna[5] be a butcher’s army 2.0?”

“No, I just came here ta[6] catch up with some contacts, didn’t even know you two were in town,” Quackity denied, taking a step back as he glanced at Techno.

“Sides we’d need Ranboo for that,” Fundy muttered a bit too loud.

“Oi![17] You watch yerself,[23] Ranboo can do no wrong!” Phil shouted at his grandson.

“Are you kidding me?” Fundy shouted back, devolving into a series of frustrated, incoherent grumbling noises.

“Looks like a pretty important meeting up here?” Quackity smiled, looking around. “You all having fun?”

“Bruhh, these two wanna[12] take on the Legionnaires and the government,” Techno declared. “And I’m helping.”

“Wait what?” Marvin demanded before his brain could tell him that looking a gift horse in the mouth was a bad idea. “Since when have yeh[1] been in on this?”

“Since you told me that you were taking on the CIA,” Technoblade grinned. “That type of stuff is literally all I do.”

The hunter spoke up, they’d been mostly quiet up until now, mostly watching the situation fly wildly out of control, but now they interjected, “I’m going to duel the Guildmaster, take over the Guild and take them back on track to what our Guild was meant to be, protecting people and not making deals with people who are literally worse than demons.”

“So you’re saying that if you’re in control you’ll go against the government?” Technoblade said.

“If that means protecting people like we’re supposed to be doing from the start, then yes,” Taylor told him.

“Now that’s the type of thing I like to hear,” Techno grinned. “But if you back out on that, I will take care of you.”

“Right,” the hunter didn’t break eye contact.

“So, yer[24] gonna[5] help us fight them then?” Marvin asked.

“Heh,” Techno grinned. “Taking down the self-entitled discount Spanish Inquisition, and the government? You’d have to fight me not to come.”

“Get rid of the Legionnaires?” Quackity smiled. “Count me in, wish I had brought Sam and Sap, they would’a[25] made this a breeze.”

Then the casino owner turned to his two companions, “Fundy, Slime, if you two aren’t up for it, yeh[1] can go back to the hotel.”

Fundy seemed to have a fire burning in his eyes, “I can do it, I want in.”

Slime gave a huge, lopsided grin, “I will also come with Quackity from Las Nevadas.”

“You wanna[12] stay on your retirement couch, Ol’[26] Man?” Techno prodded, smiling at Phil.

“Shut!” Philza snapped, rolling his eyes when Techno laughed at him.

“I wanna[12] come with,” Techno’s little sister told them.

“No!” Thompson and Techno both told her. She pouted and deflated a little bit.

“I’ll take her back an’[19] meet you all there,” Thompson told them.

“So, kitty, you got a plan?” Quackity gave him a sharp grin.

Marvin paused for a second, “Yeah, I think I got one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. you

2. into

3. Just bringing your brother to you.

4. doing

5. going to

6. to

7. over

8. them

9. About

10. Not looking for a fight, I want to get out of here with Ghostbur and take care of the hunters up north

11. for

12. want to

13. your

14. should have

15. them

16. Because they’re working with the CIA and Dark’s nemesis. And they’re going to crash a wedding.

17. Hey! (or: Wait a second!)

18. fucker

19. and

20. of

21. hating

22. He hasn’t done anything to you.

23. yourself

24. you’re

25. would have

26. Old

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guccifloralsuits · 4 years ago

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girl.........when u gonna rec some cm fics??? help a sis out!!

These are all Moreid, Hotchreid or no main pairing so heads up lol. I don’t read self-insert. I’ll try to tag the tumblr author’s blogs i know but i’ll prob miss a few (srry)

GENERAL WARNING: please read the tags & ratings bc some of these have multiple TWs. I’ll try to tag here but also CM has some...uh. dark content. Graphic depictions of violence & ya know, murder. So be safe & take care of yourself.

Completed Works/One-Shots:

You Reap What You Sow by BloodiedRose // One-Shot // 6k // Elle & Spencer friendship, morcia side-pairing // took me a sec to get into but holy FUCK

Elle Greenaway suddenly transfers to the D.C. department. She tries to keep her head down, but that's hard to do when she has to get used to a new city, adopts her traumatised coworker, and is being haunted by her own personal Graveling.

A Dead Like Me au (but no knowledge of the show is required).

The Ghosts That Should-Have-Been by Kibbers // Completed // 17k // Hotchreid // TW: Suicide Attempt // The writing on this is insane. Kinda abstract but in a way which just works. I actually cried reading this

Hotch said, “You’re keeping score, just like Owen.”

If Spencer had been keeping score, the world was winning. The rolled eyes, the disinterested gazes, the way they spoke to him only when they wanted something. Only when they wanted notebooks read at an inhuman rate or statistics they could use for the profile, for a bet, for the delight of having them at all. If Reid was keeping score, he had the right to do so if only to prove to himself that he deserved to feel a little hurt. He deserved to step in front of a bullet to save a kid that felt the same way he did.

an ice white candle, lit by Lilaciliraya // One-shot // 2.5k // Moreid // TW: implied childhood sexual abuse

He fails his gun qualification because the administrator is male this time and he stands just a little too close. He hates that he is 23 years old and he cannot stop the way his hands shake in the presence of an unlikely possibility.

(or) The hardest thing that Spencer Reid has ever had to do is learn how to stay warm.

Visiting Hours by Word_Clay // one-shot // 5k // no main pairing // TW: threats of rape, dissociation, homicidal ideation // prison-arc, so well written

Getting more and more intense. Got to fall deeper in to beat them. I’ve lost friends before, but not like this; not in a box where I have no control—or do I?Starting to think like them; starting to survive like them. I’m here because I made a choice.What if that means I don’t get out alive?

Indispensable by Deejaymil // Completed // 40k // Hotchreid // this fic wrecked me lol it’s fine im fine

Dave's a damn good guardian angel, one of the best. And being one of the best means he gets the worst jobs: the important, the clumsy, the reckless, the difficult-to-keep-alive. The indispensables. But he's never before quite had anyone like Spencer Reid.

Within the first two seconds of meeting his new charge, the kid gets hit by a car; it really only goes downhill from there. His only consolation is that Emily is having just as much trouble with her new charge, Aaron Hotchner.

If only they could somehow combine their assignments...

He’s All That by rchr // One-shot // no pairing // 6k // criminally underrated i’ve read it like 70 times // bonus for Morgan’s POV // Garcia being a queen

"One does not simply make over the good Dr. Reid. A true makeover is all about sowing the seeds."

Sunflowers and Daisies by Agib, starsandsupernovae // @ag-ib & @rxsienbloom // Completed // 12.5k // Moreid // Penelope being a queen (again) // I’m always a bitch for a Hanahaki Disease AU and this one especially

Derek is, without question, unfailingly in love with Doctor Spencer Reid.

Blueberry Syrup by dilaudiddreams // @m0rcia // One-shot // 1.5k // Moreid // Fluffy af actually all comfort & barely any hurt //

"Listen, uh...do you think I could maybe...take you out...sometime?”

Spencer frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Snipe you. No. What do you think? To dinner or something.”

Spencer wakes up in Derek Morgan's bed. He tries to sneak out without waking him.

He fails, and he winds up staying for breakfast out of common courtesy (and maybe something else).

Set season 1. Tooth-rotting sweet.

Following a Bright Shiny Thing by travelinthedark // Hotchreid but genuinely the whole team’s dynamic is what shines in this // One-shot // 5k // yes it has a lot of kudos // yes it deserves all of them

Wherein Reid feels like 6th grade girl, the girls squeel from time to time, and there are little blue drinks.

WIPS I’m Keeping Up With:

Dreams are Only Blue by themetaphorgirl // @themetaphorgirl // Alex Blake & Spencer Reid // last update: first week of October // TW: child neglect

AU. Nine-year-old Spencer Reid is brilliant, but he's too young to fully grasp the trauma threatening to bury him. Alex Blake buried her nine-year-old son and accepted that she just wasn't meant to be a mother. The BAU team takes on a case that ends up throwing them together, and Spencer is sent to live with Alex and her husband, and everything changes.

(this is the Spencer Blake AU)

Where Have You Bean All My Life? By agib // @ag-ib // Moreid // last update: the end of September

It's rare enough that anyone on the team has to take on undercover work for more than a single night, and even more uncommon that the CIA happens to be splitting a case with the FBI.

So, really, Morgan shouldn't complain. But he does, and he's wholeheartedly dedicated to hating this assignment up until the damn college kid, who looks like he survives on coffee alone, bustles into the café.

Full Series I Rec:

Undercover Pretty Boy by 898700 (ghostwriter) // Completed // Moreid leaning? // Undercover CIA model AU which inspired the whump moreid 5k I have written & will maybe one of these days post (rippppppp)

Ag-ib’s Whumptober // Ongoing // general TW bc dark themes for Whumptober

Appalachian’s Whumptober // @appalachianapologies // Ongoing // general TW bc dark themes for Whumptober

Happy reading!

ps: I actually wrote a moreid (Ex-CIA undercover model!Reid) one shot too if that’s something you’d be interested in!!

#criminal minds fic recs #criminal minds #spencer reid #cus they'll all centered around him i love annoying twinks sue me #cm fic recs #asks #when in doubt just go read whatever ag-ib writes lol #thanks for asking for this actually this gave me a reason to start compiling some favs #recs #fic recs #oc cm

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forlornmelody · 4 years ago

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Impulse Control--Why Startling Poison Ivy Is A Really Bad Idea

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Kate Kane

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: To find Harley, Ivy must make an uneasy alliance with one of the more notorious (and notoriously attractive) members of the Batfamily. A simple, easy in-and-out. But nothing is so simple or easy, is it?

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And indulging this weirdness.

->->->

Pam-a-lamb,

I’m doing bad stuff but don’t worry ‘bout it.

--Harley xoxo

“It’s completely unlike her, right?”

Jason leans against the doorway, one boot braced against it and the other flat on the floor. He holds Harley’s unfolded note in his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes at it as if the answer lies in the creases. “You know her better. What’s your gut telling you?”

“She--” Ivy sighs, rubbing circles between her eyebrows--a futile gesture against her impending headache. “--She doesn’t leave notes. Harley just goes . Maybe she texts me while she’s out somewhere because the color of someone’s jacket made her think of me.” Waving her hand at the note, Ivy meets Jason’s eyes. “This…”

“...is planned.” Jason rotates the note, flipping it forward and back. “You sure it’s her handwriting?"

Honestly, Ivy doesn’t know what to think. “It...doesn’t look any different.” She coughs. “It smells like her.” Like buttered popcorn and Chinese food. Remembering cuts right into her sternum.

Jason puts a gloved hand over hers. He’s the only Robin who ever dared to touch her. “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

She watches him step back towards the door. “Not we?”

“Sorry, Red. I can’t help you.” Jason shifts on his feet. To be honest, Ivy kind of expected this. She can still see the scar running down the side of his face, where a crowbar had bashed his head in, and where a coroner had sewn it back shut. Funny how the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove it when it brought him back. “The Outlaws and I have work in Markovia.” Ivy’s teeth grind together at the blatant lie, but before she can speak, he continues, “But if it’s a gun you need, I’m not the only one in the Batfamily who can handle them.”

“Who--?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll find you.”

He shuts the door behind him so softly Ivy almost doesn’t hear it. The gears in her mind clicking into place drown it out.

You better be joking, Kid.

-----

Jason was not kidding. Ivy enters her greenhouse lab, and finds Batwoman herself leaning against a drosera glanduligera . “I’d give Frankie some space if I were you. He finds unannounced guests quite delicious and full of nutrients.”

Batwoman quickly puts distance between them. Frankie’s tentacles sag with betrayal. “Red Hood told me you needed a favor?” Her crimson-stained lips wrinkle with distaste.

“Harley’s missing. Jason Todd told me you’d help.” It’s an exaggeration of his promise, but Ivy isn’t leaving anything to chance.

It’s hard to tell with the cowl, but Ivy swears Batwoman’s eyes widen just a little before narrowing into slits. “That depends. Am I aiding you in a crime?”

Ivy turns around, pretending to ignore her as she prunes a mutated rosa gymnocarpa, one that will fire its thorns at will. She’s thinking of naming it Lucy. “Depends on what you consider a crime.” Before Batwoman can answer, Ivy continues. “Is hacking government systems a crime? Is kidnapping?”

Batwoman steps next to her, and nearly fingers the rose petals, but thinks better of it. “You think government agents took her somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I want to find her before someone worse does.”

Ivy’s desk seems like a safe enough place, and Batwoman perches there. “You’re not worried I’m going to turn you in?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

The suggestion rolls off of her like rain on a window pane. “Oh, like Batman hasn’t turned you in several times before?”

Ivy licks her lips. “Only when I wanted him to.”

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Look. I owe J--Red Hood a favor. So I’ll look into it and--”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not giving me bad intel.” Before Batwoman can protest, Ivy continues. “You don’t want to disappoint Jason, do you?”

Is it Batwoman muffling her grumble, or is it her mask?

“This can’t be the Batcave.”

“It’s not. It’s a safehouse. One I will be relocating after this.”

Ivy snorts, eyeing a piece of ancient weaponry, a Roman shield by the looks of it. It seems neither of them trusts the other. She’s fine with that. Not once has Ivy ever appreciated having someone depend on her. Well. There’s always an exception, isn’t there? But that exception is off doing fuck-knows-what, and Ivy’s relying on a godamn hero to help find her. “Nice place,” she murmurs.

“Don’t touch anything.” Batwoman says quickly, sitting down at her desk, bracing her chin on her elbows in front of her keyboard. It’s so... candid of her that Ivy catches herself staring. Apparently even superheroes let their shoulders roll forward sometimes. Ivy wonders what Batwoman looks like when she finally removes her cowl for the night. The red hair most definitely is a wig--real hair would never hold curls like that. Her hair is short underneath--putting it up would take too much time when an old lady needs help crossing the street. But other than the fullness of her red lips--Ivy has no idea who the woman is underneath. It’s going to drive her crazy--just like it did with her male counterpart. “CIA says she’s been “acquired for a black ops mission out of Bell Reve. But anything beyond that we’ll have to access on si--Are you even listening?”

Ivy shakes it off, pretending to examine her nails. “And why can’t I touch anything if you’re moving?” She’s trying to remember why Bell Reve sounds so familiar.

“I would like to keep some of it. I like the way it looks. And I don’t want your pheromones on everything.”

Then it clicks. “ Beautiful View. Is that another prison?”

Batwoman presses her lips together, then nods. “Blacksite.”

Fire roils in Ivy’s veins. “Of fucking course it is.” No accountability. No oversight. Whoever kidnapped Harley can do fuck-all with her and get away with it. And Ivy (and Batwoman) have barely scratched the surface.

“Doctor Isley?” Batwoman says, her voice rising and tense.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? The vines in my spider plant look about ready to strangle me.”

Ivy glances over at the chlorophytum comosum, whose children are quickly inching towards Batwoman and her slender neck. “She says you’re smothering her and her babies with the constant watering. And she prefers the name Billie.” Waving her hand, Ivy watches as the spider plants retreat back towards their home, leaving their caretaker well alive, for now.

------

The “site” is a nondescript cubicle-laced hell in the basement of a social security office. Neither of them can go through the front door--well, Batwoman could if she’d take off her goddamn cowl, but that isn’t happening any time soon. So they pop open a basement window while the mailroom workers are on their lunch. They meander through the maze of modular walls and humming towers, dodging the occasional wayward paper crumble. “Our info should be in that corner office.”

It doesn’t look like much, just an otherwise empty desk with a computer that has dust gathering on its keyboard. The room lacks widows, and Ivy wrinkles her nose at the musty air. It could use a sathiphyullum or two to freshen up. Batwoman leans over the desk, firing up the computer and clacking at the keys. “Almost there….”

Ivy smells them before she hears them--donuts, coffee, and the musk of unwashed skin. Security. “Bats---”

Batwoman doesn’t even deign to look up. “Keep ‘em busy.”

“Poison Ivy?” The first guard fumbles to keep his walkie-talkie in his hands.

“Good afternoon,” she says neutrally. Batwoman gives her a steel look. “Work here often?”

His mouth hangs open, his thumb still glued to the talk button. He means to ask what she’s doing here, but all that comes out is: “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ivy snorts. “Maybe if you set that radio down, Casanova.”

As soon as he complies, the radio hisses with static. “Sending backup, over.”

“Ivy!” Bats hisses, glancing over at her.

She scoffs, listening for the tell-tale thunder of boots down the hall. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t hung up about property damage.”

“No one can know we’re here, Ivy.”

For the love of pete. Her heart already races out of control, and fuck if Ivy can slow it down now. Harley’s calming techniques be damned. “Well, you’re not going to like this either.”

“Like what?” Bats says flatly, in the middle of a download.

“You’ve only two other options, Batsy.”

“Enough with the nicknames, already.”

The backup pours into the room, and the room flashes white, and Ivy swears her eardrums explode with the noise. Her body reacts before her brain can, and the air’s filled with a dusty haze. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Sex or murder?” Ivy calls out over the coughing militarized guards. Who the fuck guards a building with a SWAT team? Harley, what have you got yourself into this time?

“What?” Batwoman yells back, coughing too.

“SEX OR MURDER???”

“...Sex, I guess?”

Ivy holds up her hands, seeing half a dozen sights aimed at her chest. “It’s gonna be sex with me. You okay with that?”

Batwoman doesn’t look up, but she does stop typing. “Is this hypothetical or…?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

“Are you going to kill me otherwise?”

Ivy pinches her nose. “ NO. For crying out loud. But we don’t have time to get arrested.”

“HANDS ON THE GROUND.” Ivy and Bats comply. What else are they going to do while they hash this out?

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“ Yes, Ivy. But only if it’s not around these idiots.”

“If you insist.” Ivy waves her hand as subtly as she can, letting the pheromones escape her skin like a fine mist.

“Uh, boss?” One of the sights drops to her hand. Shit.

Five more join the first. “Hey! None of that. ”Pigs never were known for their subtlety.

Ivy plasters on her most repentant expression. “Too late.” And she’s not lying. She can already see the green mist being pulled into the HVAC system. Which is another problem, but one she’s not going to worry about just yet.

“Plant Lady! Get that shit out of the air!”

One.

“No can do. Sorry.” Not sorry. Not one bit.

Two.

“I mean it, Lady. Or I’ll shoot!”

Three.

“ Lady, I swear I’ll--”

One piggy turns to the other. “Hey, Frankie?”

“Not now, Mitch.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you, Frankie.” Mitch takes his hand, fingering the clasps on the other man’s armor.

“Mitch? What hell-- mm. ”

Batwoman holds her flash drive in her hands, stunned by the site of an entire SWAT team playing tonsil hockey with one another. Ivy grabs her by the cape. “That’s our cue!” And she drags her to a cubicle by the stairs.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just left ?”

“‘Fraid not. Unless you packed an antidote to my new toxin with you.”

“Actually.” Batwoman fishes around in her utility belt. “Shit.” She turns on her, jabbing a finger in her face. “You were supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Ivy folds her arms, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Wasn’t expecting them to send the SWAT after us.”

Batwoman takes a deep breath. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

Licking her lips, Ivy answers. “There’s an antidote in my saliva, but it’s the most potent after I’ve had an orgasm.”

“Then why does it have to be sex?” Bat’s candor is refreshing, if not unexpected. “Why not jill yourself off and get it over with?”

“It’s not so simple,” Ivy chuckles. “My DNA is too dissimilar to yours--”

“But if you have my DNA, aka my saliva , with it--”

“An effective antidote.”

“An effective antidote that won’t cause you serious side effects.” She steps towards Bats, holding out her hand. “Any other questions before we start?”

Batwoman quirks her head at Ivy’s clinical tone. “Will Harley be okay with this?”

Ah. There’s the question of the day. Ivy closes her hand, examining her nails as she shrugs. “She’ll be alive . And free.”

Black gloved hands take her bare ones in their own, squeezing them gently. “You love her, don’t you.”

Ivy swallows, feeling as if the ground is moving beneath her boots. “I’d--” do anything for her , she means to say, and give Batwoman the vantage over her.

Batwoman seals her mouth over hers, muffling her reply. And to think this woman had the more ruthless reputation over her male counterpart. Her slips are soft and full, and the gloss slides between them and tastes like dark cherry. Intoxicating. Ivy dares to dart her tongue between them, and taste that poison just that much more.

Her pheromones work quickly as they enter Batwoman’s system. Her professional silence slips into wanton moans, and her hands work into the top of Ivy’s bust. She shivers, leaning into her touch, whispering encouragement. “Go ahead. Touch me everywhere you’d like.”

Nearby, an officer lets out a guttural cry, “Please, baby. Gimme more.”

That pulls Batwoman’s attention away, and Ivy drags it back with the drag of her nails across the material of her uniform. “Shh. Don’t mind them. They can’t even hear us over the sound of their own sex.”

Batwoman’s voice is husky as she pulls the top of Ivy’s corset down. “You sure?”

“Mmhm. Happens all the time.” Batwoman laughs at that, and moans as Ivy’s hands dally around her utility belt. “Now, aren’t these things booby trapped?”

Nodding, Batwoman whispers. “Security disengage: Code Sappho.” The utility belt snaps open falling into her hands.

Ivy laughs. “Oh my god .”

“Laugh all you want. I’m changing it as soon as this is over.”

Setting the belt aside, Ivy runs a finger down to Batwoman’s crotch. She drinks in the hiss from her lips, adding more pressure and more fingers, drawing heat between her legs and hopefully a little wetness. “You like that, don’t you.”

“Nn, fuck.” Batwoman leans into her touch. She’s a goner.

Ivy loves this part of the game, taking the most stubborn partner and watering their desire until it breaks them apart like tree roots in a sidewalk. It’s different from when she makes love to Harley. This is less like romance and more like chess. How many moves until she queens her king? “That’s it. Tell me what feels good.”

Batwoman’s knees go weak, and Ivy shoves her into a rolling chair. She presses the heel of her hand into her groin. “Oh g-- . Mm.” Gasping, Bats grabs Ivy's hand and shoves it into her own pants.

“Mm, demanding, aren’t you?” Ivy bites her ear lobe. “I like that.”

“Just get it o --oh. ” Bats leans into Ivy’s skillful touch, and she plays her like a violin, basking in the melody ringing from her lips. But Batwoman would never let a bad girl win, now would she?

Teeth graze Ivy’s neck, and the gasp slips from her mouth faster she can stop it.

“Oh fuck. Fuck yes. Right there.” It no longer registers which goon is saying what. They could all be chanting in unison for all Ivy knows. And she doesn’t care.

Batwoman licks the red line she’s created, and she squeezes Ivy’s breast through her uniform, just on the edge of too hard . She knows exactly what she’s doing. Check . Ivy catches her mouth, tasting her, drawing quick, tight circles around her clit. Just as Bats quakes in her arms, Ivy pulls back. “Oh come on, ” she groans.

“You get tied up a lot , don’t you?” Ivy glances at the zamioculus zamifolia, potted at the opposite desk corner. “You must enjoy it, then.” Batsy’s eyes widen as the vines stretch towards her. “Why else would you keep going to work?”

“It’s annoying as fuck--” The vines halt their progress, and shudder, and the Bat licks her lips. “--On the job.”

“That’s more like it.” The vines curl and twist around Bat’s wrists, binding her to the chair. Two more bind the chair, albeit loosely, to the desk. Let her move her hips, without letting her roll away. Once she’s in place, Ivy sways her hips, slowly undoing the zipper in her one piece suit. She lets it slide down her skin, and Ivy presses her bare breasts into Bat’s face, and just for a moment her mark closes her eyes, breathing her in.

Ivy frowns. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. She whisks the vines away, and Batwoman stares at her. Pulling back again, Ivy kicks her suit past her ankles, and tosses the keyboard aside. She sits on the desk with her legs spread wide. “I’m gonna need you to bed over, darling.”

“I’m not your darling.” Bats turns her chair around, leaning down, and breathing in Ivy’s musk. She barely remembers to tie her up again.

It occurs to Ivy that she hasn’t let anyone other than Harley get this close in a very long time. Usually Ivy leaves her marks to die after they get her pheromones in their system. There was that one time with Selina when one of their capers went sideways. While Ivy swore up and down, Catwoman pulled her goggles away from her eyes and kissed her full on the mouth. And things escalated from there. But that was before Harley.

Batwoman takes her sweet time tasting her, and Ivy finds herself gripping the desk with white knuckles. No. She won’t let her know how nice this feels-- oh. Oh God. “ Fuck.”

And then Batwoman pulls back. “Has Harley been gone that long?”....Did she say that last part out loud?

“Fuck you.”

Tilting her head to the side, Batwoman asks, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Oh, but Ivy wants to wipe that coy smile off that face and replace it with her pleas for mercy. “Almost. Do you prefer to be teased or penetrated?” Ivy leans forward with her breasts pressed together, her words clinical and her grin anything but.

Bats dares to look her over, drinking the sheen on her skin. Her mouth never quite closes. She licks her lips, almost panting as she asks. “Must I choose?”

Ivy takes Bat’s chin in her hands. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

Whatever Bat’s snarky reply is, it’s lost in Ivy’s mouth as she claims her once more. This time neither of them hold back, devouring each other sloppily and noisily. Ivy trails kisses down Bat’s neck, and she summons another vine. The tiniest, softest leaf brushes across Bat’s clit. Batwoman cries out sharply, straining against her bonds.

“Ready?” Ivy pulls the vine back, examining the wetness dripping down its stalk. Oh, she’s ready all right. But Ivy wants to hear her say it.

“Ivy .”

Digging her fingers into Bat’s chin, Ivy nearly growls. “ Beg for it. ” The vine teases her clit faster, not harder, never quite getting her where she wants it. No, needs it.

Goosebumps run down Batwoman’s arms. “ Please.”

How fortunate that one of the cubicle dwellers has taken to growing a ficus ginseng microcarpa as a bonsai tree. Ivy draws out one of the aerial roots, sculpting it into the right shape. She slides a condom on it, safety first, of course, and lets the plant do the rest. It enters Bats slowly, slowly filling her up. Her eyes bulge as it pulls back, and pushes back in. No sound spills from her mouth, but her hips shift, thrusting with the plant as it fucks her.

Fuck, but Ivy’s mouth is dry. Her thighs twitch, rubbing together hungrily as she watches. She wants to touch herself so bad but she won’t give Batwoman that satisfaction. She won’t. She...

Batwoman’s face twists, and her mouth pinches shut. Her back arches and the chair squeaks across the floor. The groan rasps out of her mouth as her jaw drops into the perfect Oh.

“Not bad.” Ivy picks some lint off of her arm, releasing Batwoman from her bonds. “The antidote should be working now. Thank you for the view --”

The vigilante charges forward, gripping Ivy’s arms and pressing her back into the desk. Ivy watches the monitor crash to the floor. “I’m not done yet.” Batwoman’s signature lipstick has smeared across her chin in a very un-Batlike fashion. Her gloved fingers poke at Ivy’s clit, and she hisses. “Still sensitive, aren’t we? Still unsatisfied?” Her voice drops low and teasing, and fuck, Ivy won’t tell her to fuck off now .

Those same fingers that cast batarangs and grip grappling hooks dig into her, twisting and pulling. A chorus of cries ring out in harmony with her own, as Ivy lifts her hips off the desk, thrusting into Batwoman’s touch. “Yes. Yes.” Bats grins into Ivy’s mouth, drawing out her moans. Harley would do the same thing, but Ivy doesn’t want to think about her right now. She doesn’t want to think about anything at this moment. She draws up a vine, letting it coat itself in its own juices. Nice and easy , she tells herself, pulling away from Batwoman so she can look her in the eyes.

The vine slithers between her butt cheeks, small end first. Batwoman raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t stop her delicious torment. In fact, she licks her lips a little. “Ah, fuck. Fuck. ” Her hand works in tandem with Ivy’s vines, pushing and pulling her hips back and forth like a rubber band. She chuckles into Ivy’s mouth, claiming it again, tasting it again. Only chuckling louder as Ivy begs and begs for release. Batmwoman clenches Ivy’s hip with her free hand, digging in her fingers so she feels that much more used . And fuck her, Ivy loves it.

If the pigs nearby are still fucking, Ivy can’t hear them.

She doesn’t even hear herself moaning into Batwoman’s ear. She only hears the slick as she’s fucked from both sides. And oh , the fullness of both . Ivy grips Batwoman’s shoulders to keep from shaking apart, and she bites the skin of her neck as she explodes with the heat of the sun.

Ivy stretches as the vine and Batwoman pull back, and she hums with satisfaction. Batwoman watches her with molten eyes. “Should we go agai--”

Ding! The computer chimes nearby.

Ivy sits up quickly, shaking off the last vestiges of her afterglow, slinking her one piece on and zipping it up the back. The zipper gets stuck, and before she can weigh the pros and cons of asking , gloved fingers finish the job for her. “Transfer’s done.”

“Finally.” Ivy grabs her boots, marching to the office barefoot.

Batwoman clicks a few keys, and whistles . “Mission’s already done. She’s at Metropolis General.”

“She’s hurt !?” A branch snaps in a horrid crack behind them.

“She was, but she’s being discharged today. Better hurry.”

Batwoman doesn’t need to tell her twice.

Ivy pauses to don her boots in the hallway. Nearby she hears the sound of a half-a-dozen special response officers zipping up their flies. “Ah, fuck. I lost a button. Anyone see the button to my uniform?”

“Fuck off. At least you’re not missing a contact lens.”

“Hey! Who stole my gun?”

“Ah shit. Mine too.”

Leaving them behind, Ivy chuckles. The green always knows how to take good care of her. Soon she’ll return the favor.

------

Room 23. The hospital stretches on in an endless maze. Ivy forces herself not to run, to carry her empty clipboard like she’s a doctor making her rounds. Just act like she belongs there and no one will notice. So far so--

Ivy’s heart soars when she spots the room number.

“Harley!”

Harley shoots up in bed, swaying a little, but her shit eating grin tells Ivy everything will be okay. “Pretty girl!”

Ivy sits on the bed, planting a shy kiss on Harley’s lips. “I need to tell you something.” She explains the events of the past 24 hours, and Harley’s eyes go wide. Twisting her hands, Ivy waits an eternity for Harley to reply.

“Was she good? Do you think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Harley!”

#dc comics #poison ivy #batwoman #jason todd #poison ivy x batwoman #finished this a few weeks ago #but was dealing with a breakup #sorry about the delay #melody writes #thank you asshat anon bot for reminding me to post more content you hate :P #lemon

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sodone-withlife · 4 years ago

Text

glass is fragile

Criminal Minds Fic Part Two

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: implied character death

Notes: cross-posted on Ao3. this is the result of a random idea I had because while I love Hotchniss, I love the idea of the two meeting in college and keeping in contact with Hotch being an overprotective brother

fortuna vitrea est; tum cum splendet frangitur (fortune is glass; just when it gleams brightest it shatters) - Publilius Syrus

“I’ve got five names on the bottom of the list Prentiss gave us,” Morgan said, walking towards the case board. “Luke Renault, Lawrence Riley, Lyla Rafferty, Lyle Rogers, Landon Raines.”

“All with the initials L.R.” Seaver pointed out.

“The CIA uses cryptograms like that to assign non-official cover agents working the same case,” Hotch remarked.

“So do other foreign countries,” Morgan added. “These last five names are covers—spies,” he said, pointing at the document.

“Wait,” Garcia said, taking the document. “No, this isn’t right,” she said, pointing at the page. “Do you see this space? That shouldn’t be here.”

“Could it be a formatting error?” Reid asked.

“No, this is a spreadsheet template,” Garcia answered. “Formatting doesn’t allow for this, there’s a missing name on here.”

“It’s another spy whose cover is L.R.” Hotch said quietly, looking to the elevator and mentally preparing to give the looming long-winded explanation.

“‘Lauren Reynolds is dead,’” Reid said aloud behind him.

“What?” Hotch turned around in shock, having not heard that name spoken aloud in years.

“‘Lauren Reynolds is dead,’” Reid repeated, “Prentiss said that on a phone call seventeen days ago, but her intonation wasn’t surprise or grief, it was like a mantra, like she was reminding herself.”

As Reid continued talking, Hotch pulled out his phone and dialed her number, hoping like hell his hunch about what she's doing is just that—a hunch.

“If Prentiss is the last name on that list, she’s on Doyle’s list, too,” Seaver said.

Hotch followed the sound of a ringtone to Emily’s desk and opened the first drawer. “Guys,” he cut into the team’s discussion, holding the gun and badge she’d left behind out for them to see.

“She left her badge and gun? Why would she do that?” Morgan asked, confused. Hotch placed them back down and grabbed his other phone, pulling up his messages.

<< It’s T, isn’t it.

>>He’s going after us, he’s threatened the others.

<<Blackbird.

<<Where are you?

<<What are you doing?

>>I’m sorry.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Reid turned back to the others, uncomprehending. “Why run? We’re her family, we can help.”

“Doyle’s killing families,” Rossi pointed out in realization. “She’s not married, not close to relatives—”

“Last night, Doyle verbally threatened to kill us,” Hotch said, looking up as his worry for Emily’s safety returned in full force.

“How do you know that?” Morgan asked suspiciously. In response, Hotch held out his phone and played the recording Emily had sent over last night.

“Aaron, Doyle mentioned all of us except you. Why?” Rossi asked, noting the distinct lack of any threat directed at the unit chief. Hotch didn’t answer, looking out through the glass doors towards the elevators. The others followed his line of sight.

“JJ?” Garcia stood up and dashed over to the long-missed blonde, who was standing in the doorway.

“I’ve called the State Department for permission to have someone come over and shed light on Emily’s past. Officially, I can’t tell you anything,” Hotch told the profilers who were staring in shock, “but JJ can.”

~~~

“Okay, so I talked to a friend from Langley, he couldn’t give me Emily’s full CIA history, but he could give me this,” JJ said, turning to the TV screen. “She assumed the identity of Lauren Reynolds as part of a special task force called JTF-12.”

“I heard about them,” Rossi remarked, “They were profiling terrorists, weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” JJ answered. “Assembled after 9/11, CIA and Western agencies contributed their ‘best and brightest’.”

“But serial killers and terrorists have different personality traits,” Seaver pointed out.

“How does Doyle fit in?” Reid asked.

“He was their last case,” JJ said, “and now the JTF is on his hit list.”

“Jeremy Wolff was victim number one, from Germany’s BND,” she began, focusing on the pictures on the screen. “Sean McAlister at Interpol was the second and was the one who brought the JTF in on Doyle. He was murdered last week in Brussels with his wife and daughter,” JJ said softly, flicking a brief look at Hotch, who had squashed down his reaction.

“Tsia Mosely of France’s DCRI—she got engaged to Jeremy earlier this year and fled here when he died,” JJ continued and sent another look at Hotch, who took a breath and steeled himself for the barrage of accusations and questions he was sure to get.

His picture appeared on the screen.

“Hotch?” They turned to look at him in confused shock.

“It wasn’t my prerogative to tell you,” he moved around the table and took the remote from JJ, looking at the other profilers. “None of you had the clearance for this, and there wasn’t time between the numerous phone calls I had to make in order to get JJ back here.”

“I understand you have questions, but we need to focus on Emily,” he said firmly, turning to the screen. “Clyde Easter of the British SIS was the leader. I’ve talked to him over the phone twice and he was in DC last I heard, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since Tsia’s murder.”

“You were involved in the Doyle case?” Rossi asked. Are you safe? went unasked but was heard by everyone.

“I’m well aware of the danger I am in,” Hotch said, “but if I’m right, he’s going to be too fixated on Emily to care much about me, though I’ve had precautions in place since we first found out he escaped.”

“Did you ever make any arrests? Maybe that’s why he’s after you?”

“No, the host countries always took care of that and we just moved onto the next case. Given the shadowy nature of terrorist cells, we were mostly involved in infiltration.”

“Who was undercover on Doyle?” Reid asked.

“Emily,” JJ answered.“She posed as another weapons dealer and met him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla.” JJ paused, looking at Hotch apprehensively.

He took over, knowing what she was hung up on. “The recon we did on Doyle included a background on all of his previous romantic relationships, and… ” he trailed off, hesitating, “she’s exactly his type.”

~~~

“Prissy, where the hell are you?”

“Oh, is that worry that I hear, Iceman?”

“Blackbird’s in Boston, isn’t she.”

“Is that a question?”

~~~

“Emily walked into a trap,” Garcia said shakily, pointing at the screen. “It looks like Doyle got into the SUV, but from this angle, you can see that he didn’t, which I wish Boston PD would have told me before I started watching it.” She looked at the others apologetically. “Sorry again for the screaming.”

“She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car,” Morgan said incredulously. “She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

“Well, three bad guys,” Rossi pointed out.

“Illegal as it is, when you’re dealing with the likes of Doyle, who has nothing to lose,” Hotch said softly, staring into space, “you have to be as ruthless as he is and act the same way.”

“So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?” Rossi asked.

“Well, the mole must have told him, right?” JJ suggested. “The same guy who’s been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents?”

“And our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash,” Seaver said.

“Let me take care of Prissy—Clyde,” Hotch amended when the nickname garnered him strange looks. “The rest of you focus on Doyle’s location.”

“I hate to be the one to ask this,” Garcia hesitantly spoke up, looking to Hotch. “But how long does Emily have?”

He remained silent for a moment. “Doyle saved her for last because she is his stressor—she had an intimate connection with him,” Hotch blew out a breath and focused his gaze on the analyst. “He’ll take his time.”

A horrified silence fell over the group. He stood up, unable to bear the heavy tension and fear, and walked into the jet’s bathroom. He leaned on the counter for support and took a few deep breaths, trying not to spiral into a panic.

“How long have you known Emily?” Rossi asked quietly, having followed behind him.

“Fall of ‘89,” he answered, feeling faint amusement at the older man’s surprise. “Yale; I was an ambitious law school student while she was a goth sophomore student. We saw each other again when I did some work for the Ambassador, then again when JTF was formed. Clyde always referred to me as the overprotective big brother even though she’s a year older than me.”

“Did you know about Emily and…?” Rossi trailed off, unsure as to how he should phrase the question.

“I had my suspicions,” Hotch admitted. “I wasn’t there to see her after she was extracted, but I talked to her afterward, and something was definitely different.”

~~~

“October 2006. ‘In closing, I have never worked with a finer agent than Emily Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing and predicting terrorist behavior is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted,” Hotch looked up at the Englishman. “I knew something was off when I read her personnel file those years ago. Buzz words, the like—you sold her to the bureau just like you sold Doyle to the North Koreans.”

Clyde remained silent as Hotch continued to stare at him. “It takes a skilled sociopath to betray his team and the cause he held dear for self-preservation.”

He leaned forward, expression dark. “If anything happens to Emily, I swear I will destroy you, our past history be damned.”

Finally shifting in his spot, Clyde sent an appraising look over Hotch. “You were the best,” he said, “but you’re slipping. I’m disappointed.”

Hotch looked at him dispassionately. “My team and I will get Doyle with or without you. Pack lightly—Guantanamo gets humid.”

He turned away as Clyde chuckled behind him. “Nice try,” the Englishman said, “but I’m curious. If I’m the sociopath, then I should feel no empathy, correct?”

“Oh, you’re not the sociopath,” Hotch corrected him, turning around at the doorway. “Doyle is.”

He carefully looked Clyde up and down. “Weren’t you a better profiler?”

~~~

“Did you know Jeremy sold the list to Doyle?” Hotch asked, sitting across from Clyde.

“I had my suspicions,” Clyde admitted casually.

“So when you got to DC, you couldn’t trust Tsia, either. Emily and I read your doubt as duplicity,” Hotch said, leaning forward. “Emily is in trouble, and you need to help me brief the team on the original profile so we can combine that with who he is now as a serial killer.”

“Aaron, you know that Doyle is going to escape from one of your American prisons as easily as he did in North Korea,” Clyde retorted. “There is no catching that man, you have to put a bullet in his brain yourself.” He looked at Hotch seriously. “You, as an FBI agent, took an oath to protect the laws of your country. Can you break your oath, Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch shook his head, understanding his intent and opting for a different answer.

“I can take one.”

There was a knock on the door, which opened to show JJ. “The British consul’s here,” she told the men.

“Could you tell him I’ll be right out?” Clyde requested, not looking away from Hotch. “I’m consulting with the BAU on a case.”

~~~

The profilers stood around quickly set up table and case boards in the Boston field office, Clyde and Hotch at the head of the table.

“Ian Doyle is a power-assertive psychopath. Highly controlling and very explosive when something doesn’t go as planned,” Clyde informed them.

“Okay, so how does this fit in with who he is as a family annihilator?” Seaver asked.

“And Prentiss’ role in it,” Rossi added.

“Annihilators have a romanticized view of who their family is,” Reid suggested.

“Actually,” Hotch interrupted, “he was an orphan.”

“Well, they think of family as their possession until some law shatters that and starts them killing,” Morgan offered.

“Doyle was never married,” Clyde said.

“Children?” Rossi asked.

“No.”

“You run your profile that he carried out his murders with surgical-like precision,” Reid interjected, holding out a photo of the dead child.

“Yeah.”

“With no collateral damage,” Morgan continued, which Clyde and Hotch confirmed.

Rossi looked up, an idea coming to him. “Perhaps this child was a surrogate for one he had.”

“Say Doyle had a child and you didn’t know about it,” Seaver suggested hypothetically, turning to Clyde. “Is it possible that Prentiss did?”

“Then why would she keep it from me?” Clyde asked as if the idea was inconceivable. Hotch raised an eyebrow and let out a scoff, earning himself a look from the Englishman.

“First name Declan,” Hotch told Garcia, ignoring Clyde. “Adoptive guardian Louise Jones, Doyle’s housekeeper. Emily moved them here to Boston eight years ago and she told me she made sure they’re safe. Anything beyond that, a last name, I don’t know.”

“Declan and his mother went missing seven years ago,” Garcia said, typing rapidly. “Bodies were never found… wait, what’s this?” Multiple pictures popped up on her screen. “God, someone took pictures of them being shot,” she said, horrified.

“Is there an address?” Hotch demanded.

“That looks like a warehouse,” Garcia said as she entered in the specifiers. “It’s gotta be big enough to house a small army. That’s weapons, supplies, let’s see, which means it has its own perimeter…” she trailed off, hitting enter. “1518 Adams Street,” she read from her screen.

“Hold on, look at the photos,” Reid interjected, taking a closer look at the screen.

“It’s black clothing and a hand, Reid,” Morgan said, confused.

“No, look at the fingernails,” he corrected, pointing to the screen.

Garcia let out a gasp as she realized what Reid was talking about. “Oh my god.”

~~~

“Agent Prentiss is the only friendly in the building,” Hotch briefed the listening agents, ballistics vest on. “Rescuing her is our primary objective.”

“Our only advantage here is stealth,” Morgan said. “Once they know we’re on site, there’s nothing to stop them from killing her, so we keep it quiet until we get to her… ”

~~~

“Cut the power.”

~~~

“I got her!”

~~~

“Come on, stay with me!”

~~~

“She never made it off the table.”

~~~

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“She’s my friend, and so are you. I want to protect her and make sure you don’t fall under this weight.”

~~~

<< Stay safe

>>You too

~~~

“Prissy, where are you hiding out right now?”

“Good to hear from you too, Iceman. The Golden City. oh, and I know she’s alive.”

“Glad to hear your habits haven’t changed a bit.”

~~~

“How are you doing?”

“The others aren’t as mad as I expected.”

“Red tape, writing up report after report for bureaucrat after bureaucrat, they’re more perceptive than you give them credit for. However, I don’t believe I asked about them, I believe I asked after you.”

“I think cleaning up this mess while trying to go about life with an international criminal potentially out for my blood is a fitting punishment for my failings.”

~~~

“I get it. We’re a family, and it’s important that families talk, and holding it in will just make this sick, sad feeling of awfulness more awful,” Garcia said, “right?”

Hotch allowed himself a brief upturn of his lips at her rambling before sobering up. “Internalizing does make it worse,” he agreed.

“I’ll talk, but I don’t want to talk about her being gone,” Garcia said softly. “Can I talk about how she made me smile?”

A pang shot through Hotch’s heart at her hopeful question as he thought back on the close relationship the women had with each other.

“Of course.”

~~~

“The last time I was on a couch like this was when my father left,” Reid mused quietly. “They all thought I needed to talk, but developmentally I wasn’t guided by conscience—I could only reveal what my mother and my teachers told me was acceptable.”

“You told them exactly what they wanted to hear,” Hotch summed up, not showing just how much that hit home. “You don’t have to do that here. Yell, curse at me, whatever you need to do.”

The genius swallowed. “It’s just unfair that she’s gone,” he said, barely holding back tears. “It’s like if we can’t keep each other safe, then why are we even doing any of this?”

Hotch remained silent as Reid continued. “It’s… sometimes I think maybe—maybe Gideon was right, you know. Maybe…” he trailed off, staring into space. “Maybe it’s just not worth it.”

~~~

Morgan sighed, leaning back on the couch. “So I came in here to do what? Talk about losing Emily?” He shook his head when he received no answer. “Strauss put you up to this?”

“The assessment’s routine,” Hotch finally said. “I asked her to let me do it rather than bring in somebody from the outside. Thought it might be preferred, even with my role in this mess.”

“So let me guess—it’s about the five stages of grief,” Morgan let out a breath. “You want to figure out where we all are.”

Hotch looked at him expectantly, remaining silent, much to Morgan’s annoyance.

“All right,” Morgan said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. “Denial. I’m fine, this can’t be happening to me—well it didn’t happen to me, did it?” he started. “So that rules that out. What else is there—bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Well, obviously, I haven’t accepted it, otherwise I wouldn’t be in here,” he looked at Hotch. “So where does that leave me?”

“Angry.”

“Angry,” he repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I want to quit my job and spend my time chasing down the son of a bitch who killed Emily. You’re damn right I’m angry,” he declared, anger pouring out of every word before he deflated.

“Sixty seconds,” Morgan breathed out, shaking his head in self-recrimination. “If I had gotten there sixty seconds earlier, Emily might still be with us.”

“Derek, you know that you did everything you could—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I did everything I could. We all did. I know,” he snapped. “What, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“You protected each other for years, don’t expect this to go away anytime soon,” Hotch told him.

“This what? This—this guilt?”

“Just because you were the last one there doesn’t mean that you could affect the outcome,” Hotch said. “We all wish we had that kind of control.”

“So what do we do, we just chalk it up to fate?” Morgan looked at Hotch incredulously. “What, I can’t blame anybody? What, this is the will of God? No. I do blame somebody, I blame Doyle.”

At a loss, Hotch remained silent, hiding the guilt that threatened to swallow him in the face of Morgan’s grief.

“Hotch, what am I supposed to do?” Morgan finally asked, voice breaking. “I lost my friend right in front of me, and I’m supposed to go on like nothing happened?” He shook his head, taking in a shuddering breath. “You know, we—we come in here, and we talk to you,” he turned to Hotch and asked, “Where do you go?”

Hotch glanced down as Morgan continued, “Where are you with all this?”

“Same place as you,” the unit chief looked back up, a mutual understanding passing between them. “Wishing she was here.”

~~~

“There are benefits to meeting after hours,” Rossi commented, raising his glass of scotch and taking a drink.

Hotch looked down at his own glass. “You know everybody’s feeling it, and nobody wants to talk about it.”

“It’s too soon, Aaron. You know that better than anyone,” the older profiler sent him a look. “And, uh, doesn’t Strauss usually run these assessments?”

“There was no way that was going to happen,” Hotch said firmly to Rossi’s brief chuckle.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said, as Hotch took a long drink out of his own glass. “And I also know that you grieve privately. But,” Rossi paused, looking at him solemnly, “you’ve been through more than any of us in a very short time. How are you holding up?”

“I’m all right,” Hotch repeated three words that had become a mantra, briefly glancing at Rossi. “I think it’s an ongoing process,” he said, thinking about the mess he was buried under after the events of the past year.

“This is not my assessment,” he looked at Rossi in reproach, “I’m supposed to be asking how you’re doing.”

A corner of Rossi’s lips briefly tilted up before he looked back down as he thought about what to say. “I’ve always had trouble letting people in,” he began slowly and shook his head. “But this is different. I guess I’ve come to realize… I’m more married to this team than I ever was to three ex-wives.” They shared a brief moment of amusement as his quip.

“It’s been a hard year,” Hotch finally said quietly. “We’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, we will,” Rossi agreed, lifting his glass in a toast. “Emily and Haley.”

Hotch raised his own, the two lapsing into heavy silence.

~~~

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorrysorrysorry—

He threw the blanket off himself and got up from where he was laying on the couch to walk over to his desk, glancing out into the dark bullpen as he went. He sat down and started going through the stack of unfinished reports in an attempt to ward off the thoughts that have plagued him since that painful day two months ago.

I’ve failed you, Blackbird.

I hope you’re safe out there.

~~~

“Believe me, everyone who tried to save him that day isn’t going to forget. It’s the day they failed. They’ll ask themselves what they could have done—could they have gotten there sooner? They’ll heal, but it’s going to take time. They’ll move on, but they won’t forget.”

~~~

“Over the next few weeks, each of you is going to be asked if you’d like to stay with the unit,” Hotch informed them.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Reid asked, confused.

“There are other options for you out there,” Hotch answered. “And while I want the unit to stay together, I understand completely if you want to see what the alternatives are. Morgan, there’s renewed interest in you from the New York office.”

Morgan looked surprised. “Nobody’s called me.”

“They will.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to go,” he said slowly.

“Oh, I know,” Hotch said evenly.

“Are you staying here?” Seaver asked Hotch.

“It’s my intention to,” but we’ll have to see what happens with Doyle. He felt Rossi’s eyes land on him, knowing that the man would have caught his careful word choice.

Either way, there’s a high chance I’m going to be overseas soon.

~~~

“Has he ever left before us?”

“He technically isn’t leaving—he’s still in danger and doesn’t have the luxury of going into hiding, so he’s been rotating through the Academy dorms.”

“Jack?”

“He’s been staying with the Brooks family. Hotch implemented as many security measures as he could and has been visiting as often as he can.”

~~~

“Hotchner.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Morgan’s voice came over the phone. “How’s it going out there?”

“Got to Pakistan a few days ago, so far long days, some territorial issues to work out, nothing surprising,” Hotch answered, straining to hear Morgan over the helicopters whirring overhead. “How’s everything there?”

“Hotch, we found Declan Doyle.”

“What?”

“Listen, I knew finding the kid was the only way I could find Doyle,” Hotch was silent, mind immediately straying to the potential ramifications. “I know what you’re thinking, man.”

“Is Declan safe?” he finally settled on asking.

“Yeah, he is for now. I’ve had surveillance at his house and his school for a few weeks.”

“Morgan, I didn’t authorize this—”

“I know you didn’t, Hotch, but listen to me. I think Doyle may have found Declan, too.”

Hotch shook his head. “All right, I’m coming back.”

“You want me to wait?” Morgan asked incredulously.

“Morgan, fixated on his son as he may be, Doyle is still incredibly smart and meticulous,” Hotch reminded. “You make sure you have eyes on Doyle from all angles. If you take him alive, keep him under constant surveillance and limit his contact with other people, even if they’re our own.”

~~~

“Prissy, Doyle’s in custody and under constant watch. You can come out of whatever hole you’ve crawled into.”

“Dare I ask how you got to him?”

“I’m still in Pakistan, I didn’t do anything. The team took care of it.”

~~~

<<Time to come back, Blackbird.

>>You got V?

<<Looking for his K.

>>I just got a call from K’s caretaker. What happened?

>>Iceman.

<<K disappeared

~~~

“Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you,” Hotch turned around to see the brightly-dressed analyst hurrying towards him with a folder under her arm. “What have you got?”

“A top-ten list of Doyle’s enemies.”

“Anybody recently in the States?” he looked through, recognizing the names.

“Richard Gerace’s been here a few weeks,” she answered. “He’s a low-level gun-runner who angrily crossed paths with Doyle. I caught an image of him on the surveillance camera at Declan’s house and confirmed it was him through a scar on his neck. Have you come across him before?” Garcia asked, referring to his time with JTF.

“I don’t think so,” Hotch shook his head. “Get me everything you can on Gerace.”

“Yeah,” Garcia hesitated, “what I just told you is everything I’ve got.” Hotch nodded and briskly walked around her out of the conference room.

He made his way to where they were holding Doyle and walked up to the window next to Rossi.

“Well, that’s a good look,” Rossi commented on his beard. Hotch allowed a brief smile to appear on his face while he texted Morgan, who was inside with Doyle. “How was the desert?”

“Hot,” Hotch replied shortly, still able to feel sand in his combat boots and the sun beating down on his back.

“Doyle’s here, so have you seen Jack yet?”

“No, Jessica took him on a road trip, they’re at Hershey Park right now,” Hotch said, still occupied with his messaging.

“Well, he’ll love that beard,” Rossi looked over at him.

“Yeah, we skyped every day,” Hotch said dryly, looking back at the older man. “He’s not a fan.”

~~~

>>C just called to check in. On the way right now.

<<See you in a bit

>>If I survive the others

<<Blackbird, I made this decision, I am responsible for this. It’s my burden to bear, but I’d do it all over again if it means having you alive.

<<Oh, and J came back fourteen weeks ago. As a profiler, now.

>>What? And you’re just telling me this now?

<<Didn’t find out until I got somewhere with secure service, and that was a week ago.

<<We’ve really missed you.

~~~

“Welcome back,” Morgan greeted Hotch.

“Thanks,” Hotch said, steeling himself. “Everybody, have a seat.”

The profilers looked at him strangely. “Why?” Morgan asked. “What’s going on? Everything all right?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch crossed his arms. “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle, but the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

He continued on, watching as different emotions appeared on the teams’ faces as they realized what he was saying. “I called Clyde and we met with the brass while she was being flown over, and it was decided that her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. Given the danger Doyle posed, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, hopeful shock clear in her voice. Hotch’s silence spoke volumes.

“But we buried her,” Reid said, uncomprehending.

Hotch looked directly at Morgan. “As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision, and if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan repeated in angry incredulity. “Yeah, I got issues,” he trailed off when he noticed the others looking behind him.

“Oh my god,” Garcia breathed, tears rolling down her face at the sight of Emily Prentiss in the doorway. She stood up and rushed over, enveloping the woman in a careful hug, as if she were going to disappear.

“I am so sorry,” Emily said, as the analyst let go of her so Reid could take her place. “I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to…” she trailed off, catching sight of Morgan’s expression. “Really, I—” she approached him, hoping he’ll understand, “you didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry.”

She leaned in, hugging him tightly as Morgan slowly returned the hug through his shock. They stayed like that for a few moments before she backed away and turned to the others. “There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will, I promise, but right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan,” she said, walking to stand next to Hotch and JJ.

“Emily, was there a man living at the house?” Reid pushed forward to ask.

“Yes, my friend Tom Koehler, he was raising Declan as his own.”

“Where is he?” JJ asked from the side.

“I never saw him go in or out of that house,” Garcia told her.

“He was on assignment overseas,” Emily said.

“But he’s all right?” JJ checked.

“Yes,” Emily confirmed, “He’s on his way back now. He got a call from Declan, he called me, and Hotch texted me just moments later telling me you had Doyle in custody.”

“And because of Tom’s line of work, that’s why you enrolled Declan in a boarding school,” Hotch said.

“I made sure that he, Louise, and I were the only ones allowed to take him off campus.”

“Louise took him home last night because he was sick,” Reid told her.

“Food poisoning,” Hotch interjected.

“Yeah, a few of the kids had it, apparently, so whoever did this got to him on campus. They knew they only had one chance.”

“Current suspect is Richard Gerace,” JJ said, “he’s the most recent arrival into the states. We’ve been tracking his progress through the city, but we came up empty.”

“We know it’s him because he has the scar,” Garcia added.

“That doesn’t make sense, Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago,” Emily stated.

Rossi spoke up, “He said you were the only one who knew Gerace.”

“Which is why I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have the balls to pull this off,” she said. “There was no forced entry at the house?”

“I had two agents working security,” Morgan said.

“We think Gerace and his partner pose as the next shift, and one of the agents was a woman,” Reid told her.

Emily’s response came quick. “She’s the alpha.”

“So we’re looking for a woman who’s getting back at Doyle,” JJ summarized.

“Well, our suspect list just got a whole lot longer,” Hotch remarked, exchanging a sardonic look with Emily, who nodded in agreement.

~~~

“Is Strauss still there?” Hotch asked over the phone, striding outside towards the parked SUVs.

“She is.”

“We need full support.”

“Doyle said McDermott’s family imported weapons to a private airfield in Maryland,” Emily said.

“Close?”

“Largo.”

“All right, send me the coordinates. Oh, and Emily?” Hotch added.

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to have you back, Blackbird.”

~~~

“Hotch, are we really going to do this?” Morgan’s voice came over his earpiece.

“No one leaves here,” Hotch said firmly into his mic, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings.

~~~

“Iceman.”

“Blackbird,” Hotch returned as Emily approached him at the side of the conference room, having escaped the others’ excitement at her return. He looked her up and down, taking in the welcome sight before pulling her into a tight hug. The others fell silent, watching them clutch to each other like a lifeline in an embrace that spoke of a deep familiarity.

“You did all that you could,” she told him quietly, as their grip on each other loosened slightly, “thank you.”

A few traitorous tears slipped out of his eyes, which he had squeezed shut. Hotch kept his head at the crook of her neck, taking in the familiar warmth that reassured him of her presence.

“It’s so good to see you.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #bau #fanfic #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #hurt #sodone glass is fragile

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