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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 6 months ago

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L.D.S.K.

Season One Masterlist

Broken Mirror

Machismo

Summary: The BAU travels to Des Plains, Illinois to assist in a search for a LDSK which stands for Long Distance Serial Killer, in simple terms, a sniper who keeps shooting people in the stomach. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid, a confirmed genius who is unable to grasp how to shoot a gun, fails his firearms qualifications and is forced to work without a gun—profilers aren't required to use one. But as Gideon once told Hotch, "You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone" while Hotch carries two guns and Zoe carries more hidden guns than she should be able to.

Warning: Pouty Spencer Reid; Hotch jokes that Zoe is violent towards men (with a bullet to the crotch); Zoe insists Spencer Reid has "virgin" hair; Talk of empathizing with and humanizing UnSubs; Mentions of past sexual sadist; Mentions of a gun to a twelve-year-old girl's head; Mentions of David Rossi; Sniper shooting at team; Minor character death; Headshot; Blood; Zoe is implied to be able to sense if someone is shooting at her; Overly arrogant surgeon that I would prefer not to be mine (sure, he was right but I don't want a surgeon with a god complex operating on me—he reminds me of Doctor Strange in the beginning of his first movie, operating while naming music and years and being cocky at it); Hero Homicide/Hero Syndrome Complex; Jokey Implication that Zoe may physically assault an annoying person; Another UnSub hating Zoe for her brilliance and accusing her of nepotism; Hotch being mean to Zoe and kicked-into-the-sun-puppy-dog Spencer Reid; Main Character gets shot; Mind Palace; More scenes taken straight-out of the "Sherlock" BBC TV show; Zarah Noble-Valdez appearance sort of; Hint of Zoe's BPD (Hallucinations); Blood; Cursing; Panicking Alexander Noble; Hurt Spencer Reid

"Use the past to prepare for the future but never allow your past to define your future."

October 26, 2005

Spencer was redoing his firearms qualification; he wasn't very good with a firearm. The silhouette target had two gunshots just left of the head and one gunshot right of the head.

Hotch was yet again, training Spencer how to shoot again.

"On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps. One: front sight, focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: controlled trigger press. Three: follow through, after the shot you come right back to the target." Hotch explained to Spencer, "Now, what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't follow through." Spencer sighed.

"Right. You came off the target to see where you hit." Hotch agreed.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." Spencer complained, taking the earmuffs off.

Hotch gently pushed Spencer so he would get out of the way and Spencer got the hint.

"Front sight, trigger press..." Hotch said, taking out his own gun while Spencer put the earmuffs back over his ears and pressed them against them. Hotch's shot hit the head of the target, "Follow through." He holstered his gun, you do those three things, you'll hit your target every time."

Hotch stepped out of the way and Spencer held up his gun again

Spencer's next shot was to the silhouette's pelvis, near the groin.

"Did Zoe teach you that?" Hotch deadpanned.

"They're going to take away my gun." Spencer sighed.

"A profiler is not required to carry it." Hotch reminded him

"Yeah? And yet you carry two of them and Zoe," He jabbed his thumb in the direction where Zoe was across the building, working, "carries at least half a dozen and she shot a one hundred on her qualifications test."

"Well, she's Agent Noble's surviving daughter. He insisted on bringing her on cases and she would not listen and kept getting herself into trouble." Hotch shrugged. "David Rossi taught her to shoot a gun when she was five and by seven, she was better than he was." He took the gun out of his ankle holster and shot three bullets right into the silhouette's chest. "When I joined the BAU, Gideon said to me, 'You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone'."

"I don't get it." Spencer said.

"You will. Good luck tomorrow."

—————————————————————————————————-

October 27, 2005

The next day, Gideon entered the BAU and Zoe called out to him, "Spencer failed his qualification."

"Well, he can re-test in two weeks."

"Yeah, but he's going to be embarrassed about it, so let's not mention it." Zoe said, giving Morgan a pointed look

"Yeah, let's not, huh?" Gideon said.

"Not a word." Morgan promised and Zoe gave him a skeptical look.

Spencer walked into the BAU, frowning, in a mood and sat at his desk.

Morgan picked up a whistle and walked to Spencer's desk.

"Hey. We're all here for you. I'm serious." Morgan said and Spencer looked up at him with a very annoyed expression as Zoe from her spot nearby glared at him. "If you ever need anything..." He put the whistle over Spencer's head, around his neck and he blew into it, making it whistle, "Just blow on that." He chuckled as he walked off and Spencer yanked the whistle off.

Zoe walked to him, "Ignore Morgan, he's an ass." Zoe said, placing Spencer's labeled mug on his table. "Here, coffee with the whole container of sugar on it. You know, you don't need a gun to kill someone."

"What does that mean?" Spencer asked.

Zoe opened her mouth when JJ approached with Hotch, "Hey. Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon. Three victims shot at distance." She started to hand out the files, "It's the third such shooting in two weeks.

"A sniper?" Elle asked.

"We don't use that word." Morgan said.

"Why not?"

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers." JJ said.

"Besides, a sniper is a professional marksman. These guys aren't snipers." Hotch said.

"What do we call them, then?"

"L.D.S.K." Zoe said.

"Long distance serial killers." Spencer clarified.

"How many of these guys have we caught using a profile?" Elle asked.

"None." Gideon said.

"First time for everything." Zoe said.

They regrouped into the conference room, going over the case.

"Two weeks. Three shooting incidents. Six victims. All shot in the abdomen. First and only fatality, Henry Sachs," Hotch clicked the remote for the monitor showing the Sachs family picture and the crime scene where he was shot, "married, father of three, shot in a shopping center parking lot." He clicked the remote, showing two men and a basketball court, "Nine days later, Doug Miller and Kevin Parks were playing basketball at a community center." He clicked the remote again, showing the picture of a park and then three people, "Franklin Park. Four days later, Jerry Middleton, Kate Murray and Tim Reilly. The Des Plaines Police have found no link between any of the victims."

"Ballistics?" Morgan asked.

"He's using frangible rounds which fragment on impact, making ballistics comparisons impossible."

"The good news is that all the park victims are going to make it. The bad news is that none of them saw anything." JJ said, "However, one of the patients does have an intact bullet lodged in his spine."

"That's a dangerous place to be shot, what's the prognosis?" Zoe asked.

"Well, there's disagreement among surgical staff as to whether they can remove the slug without paralyzing the patient."

"I'd like to talk to the doctors to get more input, see if I can be of any help." Zoe said.

"Of course." Gideon agreed.

"Well, without a useful witness or solid piece of forensic evidence..." Morgan said.

"The profile is all we'll have." Hotch finished.

—————————————————————————————————

Nietzsche wrote, "The irrationality of a thing is not an argument "against its existence, rather, a condition of it."

"L.D.S.K.s are so rare we haven't been able to build a standard profile." Hotch said on the way to Illinois in the jet, "Here's what we do know: they're always male, they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

"To take credit or relive the experience?" JJ asked.

"Both. All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim. Contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have." Gideon said.

"The Beltway Shooters left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline which ultimately led to their capture." Hotch said.

"But our UnSub hasn't contacted anybody." Morgan said.

"He will."

"Until he does, what do we have?" Elle asked.

"Sometimes it's not what the UnSub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do." Gideon said.

"He doesn't kill his victims." Spencer said.

"Underkill is a unique signature." Gideon said.

"Question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally, just to wound them? Or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target? Specifically, does the UnSub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?" Hotch asked.

"Zoe, how dangerous is a gunshot to the stomach?" Gideon asked.

"It's probably the safest, for lack of a better word, place to be shot, it's less likely any vital organs will be shot, and it varies on the amount of time before blood loss leads to death." Zoe explained.

—————————————————————————————————

Zoe and Gideon were led to a room in the hospital where two surgeons were arguing, "Come on, Barry, you don't know that!"

"Good morning, doctors" Cheryl Marston, a hospital resident who was leading the agents through the hospital and introducing them.

"Forgive us. We were just reviewing the cases at hand." The man who had spoken before said.

"This is Doctor Neil Erstadt, Chief of Surgery, and our trauma specialist, Doctor Barry Landman." Marston introduced, "These are the FBI profilers, Agents Gideon, Jareau, Greenaway, Noble-Valdez."

"Doctor Noble-Valdez." Gideon corrected and Zoe waved her hand.

Gideon shook hands with Erstandt, "How are you?" He reached to shake with Landman.

"You'll forgive me. I don't shake. My hands, you understand?"

Clearly this was one of those big ego doctors like.

"Of course." Gideon said.

"I'm sorry, did you say this little girl is a doctor?" Landman asked, skeptically.

"I turn twenty in a few days."

"You're nineteen and a doctor? A PhD, I presume? At your age."

"No, it's a medical degree. I got it when I was seventeen." Zoe said, trying not to be showboaty but still Landman visibly clenched his jaw.

"She's a genius." Gideon said. "She's a forensic pathologist as well as a forensic psychologist."

"So as psychological profilers, what exactly are you looking for?" Landman asked.

"How the victims were shot. That could reveal the shooter's signature behavior." Gideon said.

"These separate wound channels 'blossom' from the entrance wounds. You can see the trauma is extensive." Erstadt said, referring to the

"You performed the surgeries?" Zoe asked.

"On patient Miller. I consulted with Dr. Landman on the others."

"It looks like the intact slug lodged between the L4-L5 vertebrae." Zoe observed.

"Any attempt to remove it would likely leave the patient paralyzed." Erstadt said.

"In your opinion." Landman scoffed in a tone that clearly said that he thought his opinion was so much more superior than Erstadt's.

In my opinion?" Erstadt asked, incredulously.

"Disagree?" Gideon asked.

"With the right surgeon, there is no risk." Landman said, arrogantly.

"There's always risk." Zoe said, sternly. "There's always a possibility on success and there's always risk."

"What significance does the bullet have in building the profile?" Marston asked.

Well, even if we can't get a ballistics match, we can get a rifle type, and the specific type of rifle the suspect uses." Gideon explained, "That could be very significant to the profile.

"You believe you can safely perform the surgery, Dr. Landman?

"I know I can."

————————————————————————————————

"I think if Landman talks too much, I might punch him. He's insisting he bags up the bullet. Arrogant prick." Zoe said a while later after re-entering the conference room, after helping with the surgery. She was struggling to pull her hair out of a braided crown.

"Zoe, Zoe, come here before you rip your hair out." JJ laughed, gently.

Zoe sat in the chair next to JJ as JJ carefully undid the braided crown and started to redo another crown braid, this one was a half-up, half-down one.

Zoe leaned her head back and let her. She hadn't had many motherly figures in her life. Sure, all three of Rossi's ex-wives, Gideon's ex-wife, Jill Gideon, but she had rarely had someone willing to braid her hair... other than Zarah and then...

Gideon smiled at this, Zoe so rarely had someone in her life, willing to actually care for her in the way that a mother would even though JJ was only five years older than Zoe. Zarah had always had that way of care for Zoe but after Zarah went missing, Zoe refused to let anyone do it.

"If I'm the UnSub, why do I shoot my victims between two-fifty-five and three-fifteen?" Elle asked.

"That's when I'd do it." Gideon said. "There are fewer cops on the street."

"Why's that?" Elle asked.

"Well, the police overlap shifts, so there's always someone minding the store. Second shift starts at three, first shift walks at three-thirty." Gideon explained.

"Wouldn't there be twice as many cops on the street at that time?" JJ asked, still gently doing the braid in Zoe's hair.

"In theory." Zoe said.

"First half-hour of your shift, you're in roll call, you're not on the street. And the last half-hour, you're at the station, you're finishing reports, you're booking prisoners. So the twenty-five minutes around the first/second shift, that's a bad guy's golden window."

"When you spend your childhood in police stations all over America, you pick up on things like that." Zoe said.

"How many people outside law enforcement would know that?" Elle asked and looked at Gideon and she pointed at him. "But the UnSub does, and you've already thought of this."

"I had considered it." Gideon said.

Landman entered the room and Zoe rolled her eyes. He held up the now bagged bullet and dropped it on the table in front of Gideon, "Hope you find it useful."

"Doctor Landman? How is Mister Middleton?"

"The patient will make a full recovery. As I told you he would." Landman said.

"It's apparently a regular thing for him to have someone play music and he identifies it while he's doing the surgery." Zoe said, "No respect."

"Radiology is set up to take photos and e-mail them out for consults." JJ said.

"Call Hotch. We're getting the bullet to Garcia. Fill him in on the shift-change theory." Gideon said.

—————————————————————————————————-

Later that day, there was another shooting at a cafe and after observing the crime scene, they gave the profile to the police.

"This initial profile is not ready to be given to the media. Releasing this profile prematurely can get people killed." JJ warned the officers. She stepped away and Hotch took her place.

"We're looking for a thirty to forty-year-old male veteran driving a car large enough to shoot from, but not so large it was noticed. Like the Beltway Shooter, it's probably a sedan, customized to conceal the shooter, his weapon and the sound of his shot. The UnSub suffers from both narcissistic and paranoid personality disorders. He works out obsessively and is never without a weapon. He's completely self-centered and cannot empathize with others. Incapable of admitting fault, he blames his shortcomings on those around him. He has no friends, and his career history has been marked by frequent job changes. He's drawn to high-stakes jobs by a need to prove his superiority to a world he perceives has undervalued him. And these shootings are the ultimate expression of that need. We believe he changes jurisdictions intentionally, and strikes during the first/second shift change, indicating an intimate knowledge of law enforcement."

"You're saying he's one of us?" One of the police officers said.

"We're saying he once was, or is now, a police officer." Hotch said.

"Is he driving a white van, too?" One police officer quipped, making some of the officers laugh.

"Enough." Sergeant Wayne Weigart said. "That'll be all for now." He turned to Hotch, "We can talk in my office."

"Thank you." Hotch told the officers.

—————————————————————————————————-

Spencer walked up to where Gideon, Alexander, and Zoe were. Alexander was badgering Zoe about taking her pills and her migraines.

"Dad-Daddy!" She grumbled. "We're in Illinois, I don't have a migraine, that's only in hot southern states."

Gideon looked up to see Spencer. "How you holding up?"

"Look at me. Without a gun on my belt, I look like a teaching assistant." Spencer complained.

"You're not worried about how you look." Alexander asked, "if that were true, you wouldn't have that hair."

"What is it with the Nobles and their standards on hair?" Spencer asked, irritably.

"It screams virgin." Zoe remarked. "And you always dress like this."

"Hotch told me that when he came to the BAU, you told him he didn't need a gun to kill somebody?" Spencer asked Gideon as his mentor stood up.

"He told me that nearly every day, he took me to practice shooting." Zoe said.

"Zelena used to say it." Alexander said.

"Well, the only truly effective weapon we have is our ability to do the one thing they can't." Gideon said.

"Which is what?"

"Empathize." Zoe said.

"They dehumanize their victims; we humanize the killers." Gideon agreed.

"You're just saying that to convince me I don't need to carry a gun." Spencer sighed.

"I don't care if you carry a gun or not. Deadliest weapon we have is a thorough and accurate profile."

"Of course, you believe that." Spencer said.

"Footpath Killer—he had a shotgun in the back of my head. I'm here, he's not." Gideon said and then moved past Spencer and Alexander followed him.

"You know, David Rossi?" Zoe asked Spencer.

"Of course." Spencer said.

"When I was a toddler, I used to do crosswords with him until I finished them faster than him... in pen. He pouted about it for... seventeen years now."

"So? And is there any other way to do crossword puzzles?"

"He told me that the mind of a profiler may just be all you need against an UnSub with a gun. You just need to know what kind of a UnSub you're dealing with and he was right. When I was twelve years old a sexual sadist serial killer who got off on power and control held a gun to my head after he chased my sister and I through an entire storage site."

"Who?"

"It's not important. He shot the men and stabbed the women."

"A misogynist." He gathered.

"He targeted women out of hatred. The solid victimology was the younger the female the more he stabbed them."

"A hebephile."

"I was twelve years old; what do you think he wanted to do to me and here I am six years later and he's non-active." Zoe stepped closer to Spencer. "I was a captive of a cult—a cult that was created because I refused to break under any of the torture, they put me through—for eight months under the orders of a serial killer who was obsessed with me and guess what I'm here and they're not."

"Why didn't he shoot you?" Spencer couldn't help but ask.

"I knew his profile. They didn't even have an official profile but I knew enough to use it against him. I didn't give him the one thing he wanted—fear. Therefore, stripping his control over me..." But then she gulped.

"What?"

"So he found another way to have control over me." She trailed off.

Spencer could tell she didn't want to talk about it anymore. "I like your hair like that." He said, softly.

—————————————————————————————————-

October 28, 2005

They were doing a reenactment of the shooting in the park; they were spread out among the park. Sergent Weigart, Detective Calvin, and Gideon were in the van, looking at the cameras shown by some of the agents and officers.

"Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give us that?" Hotch asked.

"How's that?" Elle asked.

"Perfect. Hold your camera right there."

"It doesn't look like Jerry Middleton had a clear view of the sniper's vehicle when he was shot. The tree branches are in the way." Gideon said through the walkie-talkie.

"I do have a clear view of the vehicle from here. Tim Reilly would have seen it if he'd looked down from the kite." Spencer's voice said some twenty yards away from Zoe who was taking oddly specific steps and muttering to herself, switching between Spanish and English.

"Good, have the UnSub pop the trunk, see if Reid can see it. " Gideon said.

"No, sorry. I can't."

"Nothing from position one."

"Okay, everybody, move to position two."

"What the hell is Zoe doing?" Morgan asked and Zoe held up her hand and flipped him off without turning around.

"Zoe." Hotch scolded into the walkie-talkie.

"Is she okay?" Spencer asked Alexander, nodding to Zoe.

Zoe had been quiet all day. She was wearing more moon jewelry can usual, opal moon stud earrings, a chain charm bracelet, along with the necklace that matched the earrings.

"It's Zarah's twentieth birthday." Alexander told him.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Spencer said. Then he went to approach Zoe. "Hey. What are you doing?"

"My cousin, Maze, she was a tracker and she taught me how to track where people could be. If someone what right here, they would've had the best visual of the UnSub."

"But no one was."

"Yeah." She sighed.

"Agent Noble, uh, your dad, told me..."

"Yeah, it's the fourth time. It tends to come once a year." Zoe sighed, "I don't want to talk about it."

"So, um, you know David Rossi, what's he like?"

"Um... Italian, loud, gets married and divorced every six months or so, easily irritated, smug, arrogant, sarcastic, obsessive, egotistical, overprotective, disobedient, rude, bossy, wry, ornery..." She said.

"Half of that sounds like you." Spencer joked in his usual even voice, and he gave her his usual awkward smile, telling her it was a joke, a sarcastic smile appeared on her lips as she looked at him.

"Mmm. Where's your gun again?" She teased back, she walked a little way away, still in that specific stepping.

Zoe turned when SWAT went to the practice car, throwing the smoke bomb in. Elle started to run behind a tree.

"Reid!" Morgan said, running to Spencer.

"What?"

"Reid, get down!" Then he tackled the already unathletic Spencer down.

"Zoe, get down!" Alexander shouted but Zoe didn't move. She looked at the car they were using. She stood stock-still, something she only did when she was deep in thought and really focusing, when she was on an even higher alert than usual, when she was focusing on everything around her.

Weigart was speaking, "Toss your rifle and your side arm out of the vehicle and show us your hands!"

"I don't understand." McCarthy was in the car, playing the unsub as punishment for mouthing off. But he didn't quite fit the profile in Zoe's mind. He sounded genuinely confused.

"We know what you did, Scotty."

"Look, I can explain."c

"Don't make me give the order!" Weigart shouted.

"Okay, all right, all right!"

Zoe saw him toss the rifle out of the car and Weigart said something but with a lowered, calmer voice and she couldn't quite hear what he was saying but assumed it was an order to open the lid, slowly as McCarthy did just that.

He got out with his hands up, looking at his Sergent as he and the SWAT agents pointed guns at him until one of them, pushed him to the ground to arrest him.

Zoe suddenly turned her head just left of them to see another car and the license plate slot open.

"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" She shouted into the walkie-talkie but before anyone could react to her warning McCarthy was shot in the head.

"Shot fired!"

"Get down!"

Zoe ran towards the car, despite the team screaming under suddenly she spun out of the way just before a bullet hit her, grazing her shoulder and she took cover behind a tree. When she looked back the car was gone and she hadn't taken note of what kind of car it was or seen the license plate.

"ANGEL!"

—————————————————————————————————-

They walked into the police station, Zoe was holding a cloth to her arm that was bleeding while Alexander just about was on her heels holding her leather jacket.

"Dad! It's a graze. It's a simple fix." She shouted, taking out her med pack; Spencer, having read about first aid went over to her to help.

"How did McCarty end up playing the UnSub?" JJ asked Detective Calvin as Spencer checked Zoe's wound to see if there was any foreign material in the wound.

"Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the UnSub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon." She explained as Zoe cleaned the wound.

"Wait, then how did the UnSub find out about the re-enactment?" JJ asked as Zoe spread antibiotic cream around her graze.

"Look, come on, cops talk. Pissed-off cops talk loud. At home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen." Morgan said as Spencer helped Zoe place an adhesive bandage over the graze.

"What do we know?" Gideon asked, "Our UnSub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer. So, he's escalated. He's not staying on script."

"Sometimes it's what they don't do." Hotch repeated what Gideon had said at the beginning of the case.

"He did not pick McCarty at random." Spencer said.

"He didn't take the gut shot." Morgan added.

"Why?" Hotch asked.

Gideon looked around at them.

"He wants to send a message." Zoe said "'Nobody takes credit for my work'."

"Yes, ma'am, his ego won't allow it. He feels underappreciated.

"Did you just call me, ma'am?" Zoe asked.

"Okay. But we still don't know why he wounds them." Elle said as Morgan's phone rang.

"Excuse me." He said, taking the phone call and walking off to take it.

"We know if a killer has no contact with his victims, he will contact the media." Gideon said.

"But he hasn't contacted the media." Elle said.

"So, he has contact with his victims." Zoe said. "And there's only one way."

"All right, thanks." Morgan said and rejoined them, "Garcia nailed down the geographic profile. The crime scenes are centered on two separate locations."

"The hospitals."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe took her motorcycle, weaving through the cars while in one of the cars, Gideon said, "I believe it's a case of 'hero homicide'."

"What's that?" Detective Calvin asked.

"The best-known case was hospital nurse Richard Angelo. He would inject toxins into his victims, then wait for them to crash so that he could run to the rescue and save them." Spencer explained. "He killed twenty-five people, and that's just that we know of."

If he attacked them to save them, why did he kill twenty-five people?" Detective Calvin asked.

"Wasn't very good at it." Gideon said, dryly.

"Yeah, and hospitals don't keep records of people who almost died."

"So, what's the profile of one of these guys?" Detective Calvin asked.

"Arrogant. Conceited. Feel superior to everyone around them."

"You've just described every surgeon I've ever met." Detective Calvin chuckled.

"Except Zoe." Spencer said and then bit his lip, awkwardly.

Gideon's memory went to when Zoe came out of helping Landman with surgery and she was complaining about Landman's ego. "Landman. Let's start with Landman."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe was in the hospital conference room from before already with Marston, "Landman?" She asked, "Already called Garcia on a background on Landman."

A little later, it was faxed over, and Morgan picked up the paper from the printer. "Okay, courtesy of Garcia. Landman was Army. Started out in MP school."

"Well, there's your law enforcement." Elle said.

"He was smart. Got a degree on Uncle Sam and ended up a doctor with Special Forces. And bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in 2001." Morgan said.

"Has Doctor. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?" Gideon asked Marston

"Last month he was passed over for Chief of Surgery." She said.

"Let's get a warrant for his house. Let's see if we find the weapon." Gideon said.

"Okay." Morgan said, getting up.

"What can I do to help?" Marston asked.

"You can tell me where he is right now." Gideon said.

—————————————————————————————————-

Gideon and Zoe entered the MRI room where Landman was. He turned to see them.

"Where's Marston?" He asked.

"She's not coming." Gideon said.

He turned back to the MRI scans and tried to dismiss them, "Look, I'm very busy right now. Perhaps you could make an appointment."

We're the FBI, we don't need to make appointments.

"Busy with what?" Zoe asked, innocently.

"Things." He said, irritably like she was an annoying little child.

"What kind of things?" Zoe asked with the same innocent tone, with an only slightly patronizing tone.

Landman finally turned and then spotted Alexander looking through the window, then Elle, JJ, and Spencer arrived.

He looked at Zoe and Gideon like they were stupid.

"You're considering me a suspect?"

Yes." Gideon and Zoe said.

"Well, that's disconcerting. I heard what happened to your last suspect."

"Do you wanna know why?" Gideon asked.

"Collective incompetence?" Landman scoffed.

Oh, like you're so much better.

"No, actually, like Doctor Erstadt and I told you, there's always risk." Zoe said, he just looked at her annoyed. "Have you ever heard of hero homicide?" Zoe asked and then continued on before he could answer, "According to Laura Berman Fortgang described it as a phenomenon affecting people who seek heroism or recognition, usually by creating a desperate situation which they can resolve and subsequently receive the accolades from."

Spencer mouthed along with Zoe's word, nodding in approval at the accuracy.

"Would I be less suspicious if I let my patients die?" He scoffed.

"Absolutely." Zoe said, shaking her head just to spite him.

Alexander turned to Spencer, JJ, and Elle as Hotch arrived.

"There's like a sixty-five percent chance Landman will need immediate surgery by the end of the hour." Alexander deadpanned.

"That is accurate." Spencer nodded.

"This type of killer seeks the power over life and death." Gideon said from inside the room. "He covets the power of God."

"Do you know anyone like that?" Zoe asked.

"I want you to understand something, little girl. When my patients are in the operating room, they need God, and that is exactly what I give them. When someone's holding your beating heart in their hands, who do you want holding it? Me? Or God?" Landman said, pretty much embodying the description Gideon had just given.

"I'd like it not to be you, I know that," Zoe deadpanned.

"Where were you today at three o'clock?" Gideon asked.

"I was in my office."

"Alone?"

I was in my office with Doctor Hannah Pate. I'm not the only one who thinks I'm a god. She's in the ER right now. Go on. Ask her."

"I'm gonna leave and ask Doctor Pate before I punch him." Zoe muttered to Gideon and left. Then Zoe poked her head in and pointed at the MRI scans. "Also, that patient has a blood clot in the brain not a tumor. Guess Doctor God Big Ego missed that." She pulled her head back out of the door and turned to the group. "What'd I tell you, arrogant prick."

"Zeo, Reid, let's take a walk down to the ER." Hotch said and the two youngest agents followed their unit chief.

"My guess is, Doctor Pate is going to corroborate Landman's alibi." Hotch said.

"You don't think Landman's the shooter?" Spencer asked.

"Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life he was nobody." Hotch said. "Landman is a surgeon. He has power and recognition."

"So much power, he thinks he's a god. I bet ten years from now he'll be as convinced as Empedocles was." Zoe muttered, sarcastically.

"Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed. They're the stars in their field and Landman is definitely not one of them." Spencer said.

"Yeah, he can't tell the difference between a brain clot and a tumor." Zoe said, "He insists that there is no risk with the right surgeon and his displays a lack of empathy for his patients with no ability for bedside manner. His god complex is practically bordering on delusion, no wonder he was passed for the promotion. Even his superiors can tell there's something not right with him."

"Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Doctor Pate." Hotch said to a male nurse when they reached the station, showing his FBI badge.

"Yes, sir, I'll go find her for you." He said and left.

Zoe sighed, heavily.

"What?"

"The motivations for hero homicide are excitement, power and respect. And even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. And he lets it go to his head."

"She's right. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting." Hotch agreed.

"Maybe it's not exciting enough, that's... That's why he shoots three people at a time." Spencer suggested.

"Don't get me wrong. Landman has issues and I would recommend he get a psych eval, he most likely has narcissistic personality disorder. He's a viable suspect for hero homicide but... But he can only operate on one at a time. Even he doesn't have that much of a God complex. It wouldn't be any more exciting."

They looked around at the hospital staff interacting with the patients.

"At least not for Landman. And not in the OR." Hotch said.

"Policemen and ER personnel are on the exact same twenty-four-hour shift schedule." Spencer realized.

"The UnSub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street." Hotch realized, "He works the second shift in the emergency room!"

"Contact with the victims." Spencer said, excitedly.

Hotch took out his phone but a nurse told him, "Sir, you can't use a cell phone in the hospital."

"The electromagnetic waves of a phone can cause interference with sensitive equipment, especially devices that monitor physiological effects." Zoe confirmed, nodding.

Hotch, Spencer, and Zoe moved over to the nurse, "Excuse me for a minute, please. We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper. Now the man that we're looking for works second shift and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

"We haven't hired any new personnel in two months." The nurse said.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah. Look, I've got patients who need me...

"Please." Zoe pleaded, "He's shooting people so he can tend to them in the hospital. He's already killed two people. He's in his thirties. He's vain, rude, arrogant, he works out, he shows up to work late, he blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior, all of his co-workers detest him..."

"Oh, my God. It's Phillip Dowd." She realized with fear. "He's... He picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, my God." The nurse said, looking around, fearful for her patients.

"Okay..." Hotch gently took her by the arms to get her to focus on him. "Okay. Your patients need you calm. Tell me, is Dowd working today?" The nurse nodded. "Do you see him?" The nurse looked around and shook her head. Hotch turned to Spencer, "Go tell Gideon."

Spencer went to hurry but Hotch said, "Reid. Easy." Spencer nodded. "Zoe, go with him."

Zoe nodded and joined Spencer. Then a male nurse started to pass them but then he suddenly moved, Zoe's instincts kicked in and she ducked, her hand missed grabbing onto Spencer's to pull him down, and spun around, ending up in a position with one knee on the floor, one foot flat on the floor and her fingertips touching the floor, meanwhile she heard the butt of the rifle hit Spencer in the face, knocking him down.

Zoe used her excellent deductive skills to deduce that this must be Dowd. He shot at the fuse box, making the lights go out, except a few. Yeah, gotta set the mood for a mass shooting. They were on lockdown.

Dowd has grabbed a security guard and was using him as a human body shield against Hotch's gun. Zoe was checking on Spencer, making sure he didn't have a concussion by checking his eyes.

"Nobody moves, and nobody dies!" Dowd shouted.

Dowd turned to see Zoe, still on the floor, now holding her gun at him, a protective rage glinting in her eyes.

"Better be a head shot." He told Zoe and Hotch, "I got this on full auto. Anything less, I go down squeezing the trigger."

Hotch slowly lowered his gun. Dowd looked at Zoe who still had her gun up.

"Noble-Valdez, stand down." Hotch said.

Zoe's amber eyes darted back to Dowd, the same rage piercing and then she lowered her gun, moving it so she was holding it out for him.

Dowd kicked the security guard down to his knees and he moved towards Hotch, holding the rifle at him and he picked up Hotch's gun. Then he moved back and took Zoe's from her with her still glaring.

"Get up! Get over here!" He shouted at Zoe and Spencer. Double time, let's go!" Spencer moved across the room with his hands up, awkwardly as usual. Zoe strode past Dowd, giving him a glare.

"You, take your partners' guns, put it on the counter." Dowd told Hotch

"He's not armed." Hotch said but Dowd didn't seem convinced, "See for yourself."

"Hands on your heads."

Spencer, Hotch, and Zoe obeyed, playing their hands on their heads.

Dowd approached Spencer and aggressively yanked Spencer's messenger bag off.

"Hey, easy!" Zoe growled and Dowd pointed his rifle right at her head to shut her up.

He checked Spencer for guns but didn't find any and threw Spencer's

"You. You're the one Landman was talking about. The child doctor."

"Doctor Zoe Noble-Valdez." Zoe sighed, "you want my badge wallet thing too?"

"Nobel-Val... wasn't your mother brutally killed or something? You'll have more than one gun."

Zoe glared at him as she removed the gun from her other hip. Then she lifted her leg with perfect balance and pulled a gun from her ankle and then the other and handed them to Spencer to put on the counter. She pulled two more guns hidden on her upper thighs under her skirt. She pulled another gun, tucked in her front and then one tucked into her side and then the other side, then it turned out she had a double shoulder holster, so two more guns, and one tucked into the small of her back.

"So, he has no gun and you have twelve guns?"

"My family are either in law enforcement or are criminals." Zoe deadpanned. "And my dad's a little paranoid and my mentor is basically a ninja. My mom died when I was a baby, and I was basically raised by the founders of the BAU who see the worst of humanity."

"Anymore?"

"Where else could I possibly be carrying a gun?" She asked.

"Get up, Keith." Dowd said and the security guard he had been using as a human shield got up and Dowd took out zip ties and handed to them, "Put those on them."

Zoe lowered her hands, clenching them so there would be wiggle room and he did the same to Spencer and Hotch.

Zoe was already mentally listing ways of getting out of these zip-ties. She had had plenty of practice. She didn't have enough privacy to use the paracord shoelace as a friction saw or to tighten the zip tie and then thrust it downwards to it forcibly breaks open, not unless Dowd was way stupider than they thought.

Now put them on yourself. Now, step back. Back up. Back up. Back up." Then he hit Keith in the face with the butt of his rifle.

"Hey, there's no need for anyone to get hurt!" Zoe protested.

"Shut up, little girl!" Dowd shouted, pointing the rifle at her but she didn't even blink as he held it to her face. "Get down on the ground."

Spencer sat at once with a wounded puppy dog look in his eyes. "You too, little girl."

"Like I'm not already close enough to it?" She asked, defiantly.

"I will shoot you."

She felt Spencer tug at her pants leg, she didn't see it but he gave her a pleading puppy dog face. She moved her head so her hair got out of her face and all while glaring, she slowly kneeled next to Spencer.

"Have a seat." He said to Hotch who sat in a chair.

“Now what kind of FBI agent doesn’t carry a gun?”

“I’m a profiler.” Spencer said, softly.

“Profiler. They sent you to figure me out. Are you a profiler too, little girl? What are you, fifteen?”

“I’m nineteen. I turn twenty in three days” She said. “I’m a prodigy.”

“Oh yeah?” He sneered, he didn’t like that.

“Yeah. I got my first degree when I was seven. I’ve got twenty-four now. Medical degree when I was seventeen. Joined the academy when I was eighteen.” She said, subtly trying to distract him from everyone else, if he was going to shoot anyone else, she wanted it to be her and if she provoked him enough, he’d aim for the stomach so she would suffer. She could make it.

“What’s your IQ?”

“I never took one. I believe they’re unfair.”

“You probably cheated.”

"Good genes, I guess." She said with a shrug.

"So they sent you three to figure me out?”

“We did. That’s how we found you.” Spencer said.

“Shh. Shut up, Reid.” Hotch said.

"No, don't shut up." Dowd said and Zoe glanced at Hotch and then to the door. "Tell me what you think you know about me."

"Go ahead, genius. Tell him. Tell him. But remember, get it wrong and he's going to kill you." Hotch said, in a patronizing tone to Spencer who had tears stained around his eyes.

Spencer looked up at Dowd and then back down, staring at Zoe's bracelet.

"Okay, you're the boss, you tell me. Who am I? What's my plan?"

"We know you shot eleven people in broad daylight and left us nothing. You executed a cop in front of the FBI and got away clean. And I know your plan is to go down in a hail of bullets."

"What else do you know?"

—————————————————————————————————-

On the other side of the hospital as the police force got their guns ready, Morgan told the rest of the BAU, including a pacing Alexander, about Dowd, "He joined the Army at eighteen. Went to Ranger school. Did six years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it and joined the Arlington PD."

"You were right. He was a cop." JJ said.

"For nine months. When they found out he lied about the discharge, they kicked him out. Soon thereafter, Dowd got his nursing license. He's been bouncing from hospital to hospital ever since." Elle said.

—————————————————————————————————-

"I know you're the smartest guy in every room you've ever been in, and no one's ever known it. People feel threatened by you and try to sabotage you every chance they get. You're not a bad person. You helped save all of your victims afterwards. First guy wasn't your fault. If the EMTs had been there on time, he would've lived." Hotch said, playing into Dowd's fantasy world where he was center of the universe and everyone else was the villain.

"Took those guys thirteen minutes. Thirteen!"

"You want to barricade the door." Hotch suddenly said.

"What?"

"Have me and the kids do it. Let them see you that you've got three FBI agents in here doing your bidding." Hotch said.

"Yeah, right. Let you give them a signal?"

"What signal? They knew you were in here. They knew you were armed. What can I tell them?" Hotch asked.

"What is this? Some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?" Dowd asked, pointing his gun more so at Hotch.

"You think they'd work on you?" Zoe asked and Dowd looked at her and moved his gun to point down at her, making Spencer flinch and close his eyes tightly for a moment. Unlike Spencer, she didn't look away. She knew she was the most likely person to be shot. She was better known than Spencer and she was everything Dowd hated. "We only use those for those too stupid or delusional."

"Yeah, the barricade's a good idea, though. Now why would you want to help me?"

"I don't."

Dowd seemed to be thinking hard, truly believing he was the smartest in the room. "You said they knew I was in here."

"I said, 'They know you're in here'."

"No. That's not what you said." Dowd said.

"This is gonna get real annoying real quick." Zoe muttered.

"Why does it matter?" Spencer asked.

"It matters because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it. Go ahead, Boss Man. Tell him why. If you lie or leave anything out, pop."

"They knew he was in here. They knew he was armed and dangerous. And they knew that he was gonna fight to the last round. And they sent me in here with a kid who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag and a traumatized ADHD Bipolar teenage girl kidnap victim with violent tendencies who only got this job because her daddy who along with her mom who she killed by being born co-founded the BAU, then nine months ago, her daddy begged me to give her this job because her psycho cousin nearly got her killed and then killed a bunch of other people.”

“Oh, your daddy got you this job. No wonder you have so many degrees.” Dowd mocked Zoe and then turned to Hotch. "They set you up."

"Exactly, and they're probably laughing about it right now." Hotch spat.

"And that's why you want to help me."

"I wouldn't say I want to help you. But when they come in here to get revenge for the cop you killed, you're gonna go down fighting. And in the crossfire, a lot of us are going to die. They sent me in here, I figure why make it easy for them?"

—————————————————————————————————

Gideon walked up to Weigart, "Please don't send your men in yet."

"You have to consider the possibility that your agents are dead, or at least disarmed." Weigart said.

"Agent Hotchner is a very experienced profiler. He's gonna do whatever he has to do to get Dowd to like, trust, respect him. And... And once he does, he will get Dowd to end this peacefully. I... I just ask you to give him time.

"Dowd has already shot ten people. He killed a cop!" Weigart argued.

The cop is dead. This man is a violent, deranged paranoid. It's a game. He's gonna—He's gonna do whatever he has to. You send your men in, they're just gonna become villains in his little hero fantasy. You're letting him call all the shots.

"How are your unarmed agents going to stop him?" Weigart asked.

"They're not unarmed. They have his profile. They understand him. Zoe will make sure no innocents get shot, if anyone is shot, chances are it will be her before anyone else."

"Unfortunately." Alexander said, appearing beside Gideon whose face looked as if he had aged ten years, "Since she was a child, I've been teaching her how to use that profile against them and that's how she has survived.

"Three minutes, and my men are ready to take the ER. Your agents have three minutes."

"My daughter has done the impossible is less than three minutes." Alexander nodded, confidently. She came back, didn't she? Alexander always thought of Zoe as completing the impossible. Three minutes before all his hope was gone until he found out his daughter did the impossible and survived. All in three minutes. That's how long it can take.

—————————————————————————————————-

“You know why they took away boy genius' gun?” Hotch asked.

“Why?”

“He failed his qualification. Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about re-qualifying, so I tutor him, and he fails again.” Hotch said, Zoe edged her zip-tied hands to Spencer’s and took his hand.

“You think you've got it rough? These people have done nothing but undermine me since I got here."

“Put them next to the barricade. That way, when they blast their way in here both of our problems are solved. That sort of thing could ruin a cop's career.”

“You are one sick dude.” Dowd chuckled.

“How do you think we found you?” Zoe said, darkly.

"You've been awfully quiet, Landman said you wouldn't shut up. I want to know what you think of my profile."

"We've never caught someone like you with a profile." She skirted.

"You've never profiled a sniper?"

"No, I've profiled tons of snipers. But you're not a sniper. A sniper is a professional marksman with training including the ability to not sleep for seventy-two hours and still focus and fantasy integration. I have that training. You don't. We call you a 'Long Distance Serial Killer' or a LDSK."

"You have sniper training."

"I have more training than you could imagine. Why do you think I carry twelve guns?" Thirteen.

Hotch's jaw was clenched. He knew what she was doing. She had one hidden gun left. He knew where. Zoe was trying to spare Spencer from doing this. She had already taken her first life when she was thirteen in self-defense. She had been slowly riling up Dowd so he'd want her to suffer.

"Take off the bracelet!" Dowd suddenly shouted, Zoe hadn't realized her moon bracelet had been making noises and when he grabbed for the bracelet the zip-ties she had wiggled out of fell the floor.

There was a long moment of silence before Zoe moved, yanking out a small gun stashed in a place a guy would fear to see a gun most, tucked into her bra from beneath. She could save Spencer from doing this.

But Dowd was quicker, her comments worked, and he shot her in the stomach. There was the whistling noise of a silence rifle sounded followed by soft clatter of her gun to the floor. She barely flinched when the bullet pierced her skin, only a slight movement from the sudden force.

Being shot was different than being tortured where the goal had been not to kill her but to test her limits. When she was tortured, she was acutely aware of everything they were doing that she had to force herself to go somewhere else

Her body went numb with shock, she didn't feel pain at first, just the pressure but the pain quickly joined in, becoming blindingly painful, well it would for a normal person, but her pain threshold was high. She looked down at her midriff to see a growing spot of blood.

Her brain kicked into overtime as she mentally recounted the facts and time slowed down to her, the hospital room melting away.

A symptom she experiences due to her... honestly, she wasn't sure, could just be her high intelligence and ability to dissociate or some side effect of some disorder associated from the prolonged and repeated traumas she experienced, but she had hallucinations. They only happened when she’s stressed, sleep-deprived, low on sugar or caffeine, drugged, traumatized, or especially emotionally vulnerable.

The hallucinations both help and haunt her. She would hallucinate her mother when in captivity, inspiring her to be strong. Sometimes, she felt her instincts for her surroundings came to her in hallucinations warning her. Sometimes, she would see them just staring at her.

Now, she saw Spencer Reid in a white medical coat and Zarah. She knew it was Zarah from the clothing and higher pitch.

“One of the many errors in television and movies is what it’s like to be shot with a bullet.” Spencer said, his hair was different, it was better, it was all curly and short. It looked fluffy, Zoe wanted to run her hand through it, but Zarah grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around in her mind.

“You know the answer to this because you’ve seen this happen again and again. It didn’t go through you.” Zarah said.

“You were shot with a sniper gun at close range through several layers of customized body armor at close range. There was resistance so the likelihood of it going fully through is low. The bullet is blocking most of the blood flow. Any more pressure on the entrance than needed could dislodge it and cause you to bleed out. You need to fall on your back, so gravity works in your favor. The bullet's likely only a few inches in so the likelihood of your survival given Hotch and I take down this UnSub are also in your favor."

Her hallucinations faded away and then she was falling, she hit the floor hard on her back, her hands over her forming wound. It wasn't as deep as it could've been. Her body armor saved her but if Dowd knew that he'd keep shooting. She remained oddly calm for someone who had been shot. It wasn’t the first time by the way.

Spencer's immediate instinct was to help her, but Dowd shouted, "DON'T MOVE!"

"You shot her!" Spencer shouted.

“So she’ll die. Did he signal you? Did you signal her?" He was talking about Hotch as he held the rifle to Zoe's head.

"No..." Zoe said, her voice still strong for someone who was shot, "He didn't signal anything to me. To be honest, I barely take orders from him. I only take orders from my dad. I don't even listen to him. I'm usually the smartest person in the room. I guess, I met my match." She feigned faintness and lowered herself to lie flat and she made apologetic eye contact with Hotch and then Spencer.

"ANYONE ELSE WANT TO PLAY HERO!" He roared, clearly enjoying the fake defeat she gave him.

Spencer tried to stop the bleeding, but Zoe kept pushing his hands away and she kept muttering in a softer voice than usual, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Lo lamento. Lo siento mucho."

—————————————————————————————————-

"Time's up! Ready teams for assault." Weigart shouted now that there was another gunshot.

—————————————————————————————————

"Can I ask you a favor?" Hotch asked.

"You can ask." Dowd said.

"I figure the chances of my getting out of here alive are pretty slim." Hotch said, "Even more so that Noble's daughter is dying."

"So?"

"You already shot the rebel who can’t listen to a word I say. I want to kick the snot out of this kid." Zoe said something in Aztec in protest but groaned when she tried to get her and was ignored. "He's made my life miserable for two lousy years."

"Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Hotch pushed Spencer down, aggressively.

Hotch kicked Spencer over and over which Zoe found to be more painful than the gunshot wound. Each sound that came from Spencer made her flinch more than being shot by the bullet.

“How smart are you now, smart guy? It's front sight!” Another kick to the gut. “Trigger press!” Another kick. “Follow through! It's not that hard! A dalmatian could do it!” Spencer grasped Hotch’s leg to seemingly stop him from kicking him. “Let go. Let go!”

Spencer coughed and moaned in pain, turning away from them and to the desk, next to Zoe.

Zoe looked at Spencer, muttering something in Spanish though she had been doing that sporadically.

"Feel better?" Dowd asked.

"I think he got the message." Hotch said.

Dowd smirked and looked at Spencer’s near-fetal position as he turned his poor, aching body to Zoe who seemed to be in a delirious state from blood loss already and was muttering in Spanish. Then his eyes drifted to an empty ankle holster on Hotch's ankle and his smirk fell at once.

"What's that?" He demanded, Hotch looked back up at him and then Dowd pointed the rifle at Hotch and Spencer pulled Hotch's gun out and shot Dowd square in the head.

Once Dowd was down, he went to Zoe's side as Hotch went to calm down the police before they came in guns a-blazing.

Zoe lifted her knee up and reached for her boot.

"What-what are you doing?" Spencer asked, softly.

Zoe pulled something out of her boot, a small knife and she used it to cut Spencer's zip-ties.

Alexander came bolting in, screaming, "ANGEL!" Before finding her bleeding on the ground as Spencer and a nurse used a gauze to fill in the wound until they could get her the proper medical assistance. “OH MY GOD!”

"Move! Move!" Alexander pleaded, actually smacking his bleeding out daughter's hands away from the wound to check to see if it had hit anything vital which made her shout Spanish at him, having a flashback which he had dealt with for years now.

“No... stop! Sweetheart! Angel! Stop cursing!” He shouted as she continued to swear in Spanish at her.

She finally stopped and fell back on her back and grabbed at her jacket.

Alexander helped take off her jacket and shouted, "WHAT'S THE BLOODY POINT OF BEING IN A HOSPITAL IF NO ONE'S MAKIGN SURE MY DAUGHTER DOESN'T DIE FROM HER OWN STUBBORNNESS!"

A fellow nurse lifted Zoe's moon printed shirt, but no skin showed. Just black fabric with a black zipper, wet with blood but the back of the bullet was clearly poke out of it, meaning it wasn't very deep in her stomach.

"What's this?" Spencer asked.

"Body armor..." Zoe grunted out. "Customized body armor. Light. Durable. Level three polyethylene and steel alloy..."

"That's my girl." He smiled affectionately at her before screaming for a doctor to do something useful for once.

"Can I make one request? Don't let Landman perform the surgery, either that or I insist on being awake to criticize him..."

Zoe’s head lolled to the side, and she felt Spencer place a hand on her cheek, her half-lid eyes spotted a bittersweet smile on his lips.

—————————————————————————————————-

Shakespeare wrote, "Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable."

Spencer watched as they wheeled Dowd’s body through the hall due to the open door of Zoe’s hospital room after the emergency bullet removal surgery which was actually fairly quick since Zoe was wearing bullet resistant clothing with a titanium and Kevlar alloy, only going in a couple inches, barely making it through her muscles.

Hotch came in.

“How’s she doing?”

“Really well apparently. Despite insisting to be awake during the surgery to criticize Landman’s work.” Spencer said and Hotch managed a smile, not expecting anything less of Zoe.

“You alright?”

Spencer nodded, “Probably better than you’ll be when she wakes up or when her dad finds out what you said.”

“Yeah,” Hotch chuckled, “Nice shot.”

“I was aiming for his leg.” Spencer joked.

“Well, I wouldn't have kept kicking you, I was afraid you didn't get my plan.” Hotch explained, feeling bad.

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire.” Spencer confirmed, “Pretty sure, Zoe here got your plan at once.”

“Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly.”

“Hotch, I was a twelve-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine-year-old girl.” Spencer teased. He smiled and tried to hand Hotch his gun back.

“Nah. Keep it. As far as I'm concerned, you've passed your qualification.” Hotch said.

“You’re not mad that Zoe tried to shoot him and got herself shot?” Spencer asked.

“She’s taken a life before. More than anyone her age should. You haven’t. She was trying to protect you. It’s not hard to deduce that she’ll never fail to do that. I just hoped the shot wouldn’t be fatal. But she’s a survivor, if I ever met one."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe awoke to see a relieved-looking Spencer and she gave him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, hotshot.” He teased.

“Hey, Spence.” She hummed, sleepily.

“The doctors said you’d be fine. Your dad said you were too reckless for you own good and your cousin said you were idiotic but…”

"She's not here, is she?"

"No. But she called your dad a bunch of times and then screamed at him so loudly, it was like she was on speaker phone." Spencer said. "And then some Scottish woman was on the phone a few minutes later, screaming just as loudly."

"My aunt Isobel." She said, "Why are you here?"

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what? I was the one too stupid to realize what Hotch was trying to hint at.” She played dumb.

He shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You got it. You took that risk so I wouldn’t have to make that shot. You were trying to spare me from killing him.”

“Being the daughter of two FBI agents, I’m not sure I’ve ever been innocent. But you are. You still are. I took my first kill when I was thirteen. It was self-defense. And it was my crazy uncle. I know it’s inevitable with this job but I was just trying to keep you like that for as long as I could. But it changes you."

“I think I like Zoe on painkillers. She’s much less sarcastic.” He said, stroking her hair, absent-mindedly.

“No, I’m rather tolerant of the psychological effects of painkillers.” She drawled, "And I hate them."

Alexander came in, "Angel, your cousin wants to talk to you." It was clear he was tired at being screamed at in languages he didn't speak.

Zoe took the phone her father was shoving into her face. "Hey, Maze."

Spencer smiled at Zoe and went to leave. Outside, he ran into Morgan who was concerned over Spencer's wellbeing.

"Reid, you all right?" He asked and Spencer just unpocketed the whistle Morgan had given him and tossed it to Morgan. Morgan chuckled and said, "Touché, kid."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe was deemed well enough to fly back home; she slept in the chair next to Spencer as he watched her carefully as her chest came up and down. Gideon walked up to them, and Spencer cleared his throat, acting as if he hadn't been watching Zoe nap.

"How you doing?"

"You and Zoe were right." Spencer said, "You don't need a gun to kill somebody."

Gideon looked down at Zoe and subconsciously adjusted the blanket Alexander had put on her and that Spencer had kept trying to keep on her as she kept moving in her sleep and then Gideon sat in the seat across

Gideon sat in the seat across from Spencer, "No, you don't."

"But it helps." Spencer finished.

"Yes... It does."

"I... I know I should feel bad about what happened. I mean, I killed a man. You know, I should feel something. But I don't." Spencer confessed, worried.

“Zoe said the same thing first time she took a life.” Gideon said, recalling Zoe’s state when she was thirteen. Granted that was to protect her sister. “Not knowing what you feel, that's not the same as not feeling anything. This is gonna hit ya, and when it does, there's only three facts you need to know. You did what you had to do, and a lot of good people are alive because of what you did."

"What's the third?" Spencer asked.

"I'm proud of you."

—————————————————————————————————-

Translations:

“Lo lamento. Lo siento mucho.” — Spanish —“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Notes: Empedocles was a Greek pre-Socratic philosopher, an eccentric genius for his time as he discovered that light travels at a speed; the Earth is a sphere; centrifugal force, and air is a substance, not an absence of a substance (his main belief was that matter was composed of four elements: fire, air, water, and Earth); an (admittedly very crude) theory of evolution, and the Italian school of medicine. However, by eccentric you could also mean, straight-up crazy as Empedocles believed he was a god (while I’m not sure what kind of god, but one report on cracked.com describes it as “literal thunderbolts-from-the -sky and immortality sense) and to prove his immortality, he jumped into the at the time dormant volcano called Mount Etna. Obviously, he didn’t survive. At least, this is allegedly what happened as records don’t really go that far back but there could also be other reasons he allegedly did this, another version of the story is that Empedocles jumped into the volcano to prove his immortality to his disciples, believing that he would be reborn as a god after being consumed by the flames (even though volcanoes don’t have flames, they have lava and magma).

I hope this wasn’t too bad. I always intended for Zoe to be shot. It demonstrates her loyalty and need to protect people, especially Spencer but also Spencer killing Dowd demonstrates that he feels the same kind of protectiveness over Zoe.

*(Edited/Added) Zoe's hallucinations are supposed to be akin to BBC Sherlock Holmes' to some extent. One part because of her extraordinary brain, part due to her various mental illnesses (see blow), part of her trauma and the coping mechanisms she formed during her trauma, and part of her guilt.

(Now, don’t get me wrong, I did my research via short Google searches, and the first info I see without clicking usually. Hallucinations are not a typical symptom of ADHD but a possible side effect of the stimulant drugs used to treat ADHD in children. According to the AI overview, "According to the FDA, between one and two out of every 100 children who take ADHD drugs for a year may experience a drug-related psychotic event, which can include hallucinations. Common hallucinations include seeing insects, snakes, or worms, or feeling bugs or worms crawling on the skin.” Which gross!! I have never had that. I mean, I used to be convinced that bugs would be digging into my skin but I think that was more me not understanding what itching was and with ADHD especially with children, senses can be enhanced compared to the neurotypical’s which is called hypersensitivity. And I once saw a giant black and gray snake at my dad’s mom’s place in the middle of the woods after I walked out of the most likely unlocked cabin that strangers frequently drove past and according to my mom’s side of the family (so a bit bias) it could’ve been poisonous. But that doesn't matter)

According to AI overview, Hallucinations are not typically a symptom of cyclothymic disorder, also known as cyclothymia, during hypomania episodes. Hypomania is a "high" that can range from mild to severe, but it doesn't include psychotic features like hallucinations or delusions. However, hallucinations can occur during manic episodes of cyclothymia.

Now, Zoe is frequently being described as traumatized, this is true and she does have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which can cause visual and auditory hallucinations, I’m getting mixed results on whether it’s always related to the trauma you experienced or sometimes not. (And most of them are talking about PTSD because I think C-PTSD either isn’t as researched or it’s PTSD but more��I’m sorry if that offends someone, what I mean is it's PTSD but for more events.)

Now, Zoe has undiagnosed high-functioning borderline personality disorder due to her trauma and this is probably the disorder I’m most anxious to write because this is described as one of the most painful disorders to live with and I have no idea what that’s like. Research says that 26 to 54% of people with BPD (I’m not sure if that includes high-functioning or not) experience hallucinations and can be present for long periods of time.

Now, in Zoe’s eight months, she was frequently being drugged with something stronger than morphine, I won’t give spoilers just yet unless I accidentally already have I just don’t remember, which is possible, but because of that and this fact, she was nearly always… blindfolded, not quite the right word but her vision was nearly always obscured so she had to rely on her other senses, luckily Maze had been training her with like ninja-like lessons since she was like four or however young you think you could train a super genius child already traumatized from her mother’s torture and death before she was even born because she’s a super genius.

I feel like hallucinations and delusions are fueled by personality traits and past trauma or past in general or… I don’t know quite how to say it. My idea is that Zoe’s hallucinations are linked to her instincts which are a very big part of her. She trusts her instincts more than she trusts her impulses, but I’m not quite sure how to categorize that or I’m just realizing what instincts are exactly. So, Zoe’s hallucinations happen in situations of great stress like being shot and she herself has developed a mind palace of sorts so she can assess the situation, but also they are linked to her instincts which are quite a bit above an average FBI agent’s instincts and her hallucinations can act as warnings to her.

I hope this makes some sense, I was trying to show that I have put a lot of thought into this and I tried looking up why Sherlock Holmes has hallucinations or how he can see things, maybe it’s part of his mental illness, or drug problem, or just the Mind Palace but I can’t find any answers to my direct question.

#the eccedentiast #David Tennant #Selena Gomez #Zarah Noble-Valdez Cameo #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Rewrite #Spencer Reid #valentía #Zoe Noble-Valdez #Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner #Derek Morgan #Jason Gideon #Elle Greenaway #Xiomara Noble-Valdez #October 2005 #LDSK #L.D.S.K.#Long Distance Serial Killer #Phillip Dowd

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rapturously · 1 year ago

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Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax smut #house of wax fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #sunkendreams masterlist

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