Title: End Game
By: Ryan Johnson
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Note: My first criminal minds fic. Very light, nothing very spectacular happens. I want to try something darker with Reid later, because darkness and torment is much easier; but I hope this inspires interest in the same way.
Summary: The BAU Team plays a game with a killer, an this killer has an odd taste for his victims.

***

You never play real games. You never play a game without an outcome. Everything you play is a trial and a lesson, so that you may win the next time.


Ryan Johnston Army Gen. Retired

Mr. Sophmo locked the door behind him, as he always did. Another long day, another very very long day. He was growing rather tired of the rude ungrateful high school students he had to teach. None of them appreciated just how hard it was for him to do this day after day. Coming into a classroom full of delinquents who have no respect for your authority or the subject you are teaching, especially when it is hard. So hard it almost makes one want to kill the little bastards. Most men would have by now. But Sophmo couldn't be a man. He had to be a teacher, for all the good that it would do. That wasn't very much when one got down to the core mathematics of it all.

The only person who had a worse if possible day at the high school would be the tall, lanky man in a business suit, waiting for Mr. Sophmo to finish locking up. The Mathematics teacher didn't notice the tall man until he had made it halfway down the hall. The sight of another human in the godforsaken school made the teacher freeze. Who could it be at this time? Everyone else is gone but me. Mr. Sophmo moved a tad closer towards the man. "Hello." He called out, short and to the point, "Who is it?"

"You get three guesses." The man said, the voice was unrecognizable.

Mr. Sophmo stepped back, had he heard wrong? "What?"

"Three guesses. Surely you of all people can count" The sarcasm was harsh, like a knife in Sophmo's side.

"What do you mean?" Sophmo asked, his voice became higher pitched.

"Maybe you are that stupid. I always thought so." The man stepped closer and closer to Sophmo, and continued his light walking until he was close enough for Sophmo to see.

"I'll give you a hint. I'm really hungry."

A cell phone rang, and vibrated annoyingly in Jason Gideon's pocket. It vibrated again, and a third time. The fourth woke Gideon from his deep dreamless sleep. He flipped it open and answered quickly. "This is Gideon."

"Hello, this is Reid." The familiar voice answered.

"It's three in the morning Reid."

"We've got a case."

"Why am I not surprised?'

"Why else would I call you at three in the morning?"

Gideon laughed and sat up. There was cold coffee in the pot. Better than nothing. He walked lazily over to it and poured himself a pot. "Who is it?"

"He is a High school teacher at a private school."

"Where is the school?"

"Oklahoma City." Reid answered.

"So it isn't the first murder?" Gideon made the assumption because FBI was only brought onto cases where the murders crossed the border, or it was related to the government in some way.

"Actually it is." Reid answered. "The teacher killed is the brother to Jack Sophmo, an Oklahoman Senator."

"I'm heading in now. What time does the flight leave?" Gideon asked, he was already pulling on less casual pants as he spoke to Reid with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear.

Special Agent Derek Morgan watched the rest of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit closely. It had been their second case in only two weeks. It was taking a toll on all of them. Him included, of course, but he pushed that aside. Reid seemed to be taking it well enough; he never broke character, and never seemed to grow tired. Gideon was the best poker faced of all the team. Derek couldn't see into him one inch. Hotchner seemed hawk like as usual. Derek's own stare crossed Hotchner's, and they both smiled. Always the two watchmen watch their herd.

Two hours later the team was given a GMC Envoy and directions to the Private school just south of the large city. Actually, the city itself wasn't large, not in the sense of New York City or Washington DC, but it was a vast expanse, with little clusters of houses and businesses spread over nearly thirty miles. Land wise, Oklahoma City was the second largest in the nation. And that complicated things for the team. Gideon pointed this out.

"But the Oklahoman police department has good records on all offenders in the state." Hotchner replied.

"One fifth of the state's population is made up of illegal immigrants, do the local FBI stations have records on the illegal's?" Derek asked.

"Doesn't fit the profile." Gideon answered.

"We have a profile?" Agent Prentiss perked up.

"Not a conclusive one. We haven't received photos of the murder site yet. But generally cannibals are in their mid 40's to early fifties, white male, and have a sexual fantasy they are playing out on the victim as they eat them." Hotchner replied.

"Although," Reid added as he usually did, "Very few cannibalism cases end in the death of the victim."

"We're there." Gideon said, nodding towards a tall brick building as the GMC pulled to a smooth stop.

The Building looked almost like a church, with one towering steeple with a small round clock barely visible at the top, stained glass windows, and oddly miscalculated brick structure with a large amount of cement between misshapen rocks. Reid noticed this. "Is it a Catholic school?" He asked as he tilted his head up at the tower.

"No," Hotchner answered. "Private."

"Explains the Tower of Terror." Prentiss joked. No one laughed. Derek gave her a polite smile though, and that seemed to be enough. Prentiss smiled back and the group continued forward.

Five minutes later, after passing through the Crime Scene tape and going through the OKC detectives, the team was trudging up the tower. There was blood at the bottom of it, a large pool, it seemed like an entire bodies worth. The Agent in Charge, a young man named Chace Verble, explained that the body was hung from the top of the tower and gutted, the blood spilled, and parts of the cheek and thigh were missing.

Agent Prentiss' comment about the "Tower of Terror" was ironically accurate. The large swelled body of the math teacher shone a pale green in the blistering Oklahoma sun that seeped through small windows surrounding the top of the tower. The man had been hung by a fleshy wire. The man's intestines. Reid made a sound as he held back a gulp of disgust. Gideon tilted his head and leaned closer to the body. The young agent down the stairs had been correct. The victim's stomach had been opened and flapped emptily, and gave a hideous look into the hollow cavity that had held the stomach, liver, and most of the intestine. The body was almost laying back; the "rope" had been retied around the man's chest and neck. Thick pieces of flesh had been cut from the thighAgent Verble made his way up the stairs.

"Blood was completely drained. The parts missing from the body and internal organs weren't found.

"But how does this qualify as a case of cannibalism?" Reid asked.

"Excuse me?" The detective said as if he hadn't heard the question. He hadn't meant to sound rude, but it came across as a snobby comment.

"How do we know the UNSUB ate the pieces missing from the victim?" Reid rephrased his question.

"The UNSUB left a letter." Verble answered.

"A letter?"

"Yes."

Gideon gave Verble an intense stare. "Where is it?"

Hello Whomever is out to catch me. I'm sure you found the body of that insufferable math teacher Mr. Sophmo .I'm sorry to say I left him in rather a mess. Whoops. I know you have cleaning crews for that. You can handle that right? Also, put the team that cleans up his mess onto the task of cleaning up the vomit that will inevitably come up later. But I've heard CSI crews have strong stomachs. I'm not so certain about the local police. The math teacher tasted rather skewered. It took quite a bit of wine to wash the thigh down with .Merlo 98, red of course. My Personal favorite wine. I'm also sure that you will have a team of psychological experts analyze this letter all the way to the roots. Go ahead. CATCH ME IF YOU CAN.

***

"From the wording of the letter, he fits the profile." Reid said, speaking as he reviewed the printed letter a second time. "He mentions his favorite year and type of wine."

"But what was his motive?" Agent Verble asked. "He called the teacher insufferable. He obviously didn't hold the teacher in high regard."

"Maybe the UNSUB is a relative or a coworker." Derek offered.

Gideon nodded. "That is where to start. Interview his coworkers and relatives. I need to speak to the head of the school."

Agent Verble smiled lightly. "He cancelled school for today; the students are all in their dorms."

"That reminds me, interview his students as well. The more we know about Mr. Sophmo the more we can find out about his killer." Hotchner said, and then set the team off to the various interviews.

Verble was told to start interviewing the high school students for information about the teacher, but Agent Verble was looking for something else as well. Something he thought the team from the Hoover Building missed, or at least Verble suspected they had missed. As far as the young agent could tell, they completely left out a very possible solution to Mr. Sophmo's murder. It could have been one of the students. In fact, Agent Verble was damn near sure it was a student. It wouldn't leave much of a trace, a student with a boastful pride and tender ego would have all the reason in the world to kill Mr. Sophmo if the math teacher had humiliated the student enough, or had given the student a bad grade. Just a week ago on the news a few teens beat their teacher to near death because of a failing grade, who wass to say that an Oklahoman student couldn't?

The first student looked on the verge of a breakdown. The mousey blonde Aryan teen of about 15 sat in the overstuffed chair across from Verble.

"What is your name?" Verble asked, sounding both serious and friendly.

"Uh, Bobby, uh, "The kid shuddered, "Robert Green"

Verble leaned closer. "What was your relation to Mr. Sophmo?"

"He was my tutor."

"Did you have him for class?"

"Nuh, nuh, No. not this year."

Verble cocked his head. "Are you alright kid?"

"Ye, ye, yeah." The kid shuddered again. Something wasn't right.

Verble stood and called for a police officer. The kid squealed lightly, and fell over. The police officer was soon accompanied by a paramedic. "What is wrong with him?" Verble asked the PEM as the kid was loaded into an ambulance.

"Heart attack."

"How?"

"I don't know. We will send you information after we run some tests."

Reid was having his own problems. Mr. Sophmo was well liked amongst the faculty of Newton Private School. The head of the English department was already crying into her tissues and Reid had only asked one question. The same nearly happened with the head of the Mathematics department and Calculus teacher. After three hours of interviews, he had gotten nowhere on Mr. Sophmo. Reid just hoped Gideon was having an easier time with the headmaster.

"Harley Sophmo was a great asset to this school." The Headmaster, a very old man who resembled Marlon Brando in his final days, said. The voice was soft and rustic.

"Mr. Hithren," Gideon started.

"Please, do call me George." The headmaster replied.

"George, do you know why anyone would want to kill Mr. Sophmo?"

"Oh dear heavens no!" Hithren put a hand on his chest."No, no, the students who wanted to learn loved him, and the others tried to stay out of the way."

"Did he have any family, any close friends?"

"We are all family here Agent Gideon."

"Outside of the school."

"His brother and that was it." Hithren sighed and pushed his glasses wearily back onto his nose. "His brother is a senator you know."

"Yes, we know, that is why we were called onto this case." Gideon nodded. This man was starting to remind him of the old men you sometimes saw wandering around in hospitals asking questions about John F Kennedy's whereabouts. How did he become headmaster for a private school?

Agent Morgan stood silently in the hall for a long second before picking up his cell phone and flipping it open.

"Hello. You have reached the temple of complete serenity and knowledge, how may I help you?" it was a welcome voice that answered.

"I need the registry of students at a Newton High School in Oklahoma City."

"Alright. I got it." Garcia said only a second later.

"Already?"

"I told you I'm good."

"You tell me all the time sweetcheeks." Morgan laughed.

Garcia laughed too. "I just sent them to your laptop."

"Thanks. Now download the grades for each student in a Harley Sophmo's class."

Morgan said.

Garcia paused. "You didn't say the magic,"

"Please" Morgan interrupted.

"Just sent them to your laptop," Garcia laughed. "Tee Tee Why Elle."

Reid was just happy to get out of the teacher's lounge and back outside into the nice cool breeze. He had to feel the killer. Gideon did it so well; Reid should at least try, by his own mind. The UNSUB must have broken in, from the front door. No, no, the front door was unlocked, so the UNSUB could have just walked in. Then he headed to Sophmo's office, stabbed him twice, but didn't kill him. Gagged him, and dragged him up the stairs. The UNSUB must have been in good psychical condition. Then the killer carefully cut down the middle of his victim, pulled the intestine out, and hung it double knot on a pre placed hook, then pushed the body over the edge after he removed more organs and pieces of the thigh and cheek.

The scenario led to a very disturbing thought. How did the UNSUB eat the pieces? Deep fried, cooked like steaks, or hell, microwaved? How could Reid trust that the UNSUB had eaten parts of Sophmo, it seemed debatable. Something beeped and broke Reid's concentration. It was his Blackberry. He had received an anonymous email.

Ah, the Feebees have been sent, and who else could they be but the famous BAU team. Hello Reid. Hello Hotchner. Hello Gideon. How are all of you? I trust you are having a fun stay at this comfortable school. Now that you are playing the game, I need to stay four steps ahead of the rest of you. The task is easy, you people are so damn predictable. It is so easy its making me laugh. I'll give you a hint. Every little thing is a clue. That is how well I've planned this. It's like a big conspiracy, just instead of the government you trying to beat; you are trying to beat me. Think you are up to it? I don't. So I guess I'll just have to surprise you with something new. Have fun! Talk to you later…

***

Mitch Scott tapped the shoulder button on his controller rapidly. "Come on, come on." He muttered at the television screen. The idiot at the other end of his internet connection was doing much better than he was, all due to an annoying set of circumstances in which the other boy in Mitch's dorm, George Franklin, had tripped over the controller's wire. Now it was all up to Mitch to beat the snot out of this guy. He needed to level up in order to stay in the top 50 players.

"Goddammit!" Mitch shouted so loud that the boys in the next dorm banged on the walls, a signal that had become related to "Shut the hell up" after the first couple weeks at the school.

'Yeah Mitch, settle down." George said, almost to himself.

"Hey, don't tell me to settle, this noob is using every dirty trick in the book." Mitch snapped.

"Well, good for him. It's a game Mitch, you play to win."

"There are rules George."

"Is he hacking to do these dirty tricks?"

"No but,"

George interrupted. "Then he isn't cheating. Use dirty tricks too." George sighed and sat down at a computer desk.

"Yeah sure." Mitch turned back to the screen and continued his frantic button mashing.

Down the Hall of the second floor of the Boy's Dorm, a rather tall and lanky man was walking down towards the east end of the long hallway lined with bedroom doors. The man was singing to himself, low and to himself, but it was a sweet sound. His voice had a very blues tempo, and even made the very pop song sound soulful.

"I used to think maybe you loved me Now, baby, I'm sure And I just can't wait 'til the day" He sung softly, tapping the army survival knife on his hips with a beat.

He passed the halfway mark of the hall, rooms B10 and B11 moved past him slowly. He was in no hurry.

"When you knock on my door Now every time I go to the mailbox I gotta hold myself down" He continued.

The man reached the door he was looking for, and stopped in front of it. He knocked twice, still singing.

"'Cause I just can't wait 'til you write me, you're coming to town"

Mitch almost yelled. "Get the damn door George."

"You are closer to it." George protested.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something."

George sighed for the seventh time in five minutes, got up, and crossed the room, being careful to avoid Mitch. He didn't bother looking through the eye hole, and just opened the door. The tall man was waiting. He lashed out with the survival knife, cutting George across a vain in the neck, blood spilled forward.

The man sung. "I'm walking on sunshine, woh, oh."

"What the hell?" Mitch stood and yelled.

The man stabbed George again. "I'm walking on sunshine, woh, oh." Then he turned to Mitch.

The TV exclaimed. "Lost the Lead!"

Mitch tried to defend himself, but it was a futile attempt, the knife slit straight down Mitch's right arm. Mitch curled forward and screamed.

"I'm walking on sunshine, woh, oh"

The man slashed across Mitch's back. Mitch twisted backwards. The man made his final movement. Mitch fell dead onto the floor, the knife protruding from the middle of his chest.

"And it's time to feel good" The killer laughed at the end of the lyric, and took the knife to poor Mitch's cheek and carefully cut himself a small piece of flesh off. The man smiled and moved the piece towards his mouth, and slipped it in. It was tough to chew, but his teeth did a decent job of it. After a minute of chewing, the man swallowed the piece with a look of a man who had just bitten into an exquisite slice of Key Lime Pie.

"It's time to feel good"

Derek Morgan made an outward circle around the bodies while looking at each angle of the bodies before him. This was standard procedure; the teachers at Quantico found that an outwards spiral is the best way to get all views of the crime scene. It gave the investigator time to think out the murders, and it made it easier to avoid any obstacles that the investigator may find.

"He came in from the front door. The shorter kid, George, answered, the UNSUB immediately killed the kid, then made his way quickly to the other, and took his time killing him, thus the several cuts along the kids arms and back. Mitch was stabbed in the middle upper chest, which is covered in a plate of bone. The UNSUB was using a very sharp weapon, and must have been extremely strong." Derek stated to Hotchner and Reid.

"Flesh was taken from the cheek and thigh again, but only from Mitch, and he spent more time with Mitch." Reid said.

"As if George was only an obstacle." Derek nodded.

Hotchner waited before making his own observation. "It is the same killer. Same MO, and the school has been on lockdown since the first murder."

"We have a serial killer on our hands." Derek commented, and looked at Mitch's body. "We need to re interview the students and faculty."

Gideon looked up at Agent Verble with mild surprise. "You got a print?"

"Yes, we have printed George and Mitch, the print didn't come from either of them, it must be the killer."

"You said it was found on Mitch's cheek?"

"Yes, right above where the cut was made." Verble nodded. "I think we need to get samples of fingerprints from every student and teacher at the school."

"Its not the killers." Reid said. Verble startled and jumped up.

After he regrouped Verble let out a deep sigh. " I didn't see you there."

"From the second email, the UNSUB said that everything was planned, and everything was a clue." Reid looked over Verble. "The killer would have been intelligent enough to wear gloves."

Agent Verble gave Reid an intense stare. "We got a second message? When?"

"Less than an hour ago."

"Morgan, I found something." Hotchner said, bending over to pick up a piece of paper with a pair of tweezers.

"What is it?" Derek asked. "A third note, I think."

Three murders in two days, how exciting? Are you having fun yet? I sure am. And I'm sure the fun will continue until either I stop or you catch me, although the latter is very unlikely. Even with everything I've left you to dig though, I'm sure you will always overlook some of the obvious items right before you. I can't give too much away though, it would spoil the thrill. No need to leave my King wide open for any old pawn to knock over. They say you never win your first game of chess, but I don't think that is true. Especially in my situation. You have to get the King to win; all I have to do is not lose. I could just go for your King and win early. I rather like that idea. Who is your King? Who would I have to go after to win the game? Oh don't worry; I'm not going to kill any of you Agents, just a little fantasy on my part. I'm sure you understand. Ciao

***

"Everyone, throw in your ideas." Agent Gideon turned to face every agent, Hotchner, Prentiss, Reid, Derek, and Verble. "We need to catch this bastard, and he doesn't want us to."

"Sexual frustration," Prentiss said, "The UNSUB needs to overpower his victims in the upmost way to suppress impotence or some other sexual disorder."

Gideon frowned, "No, the victims haven't been sexual targets. A fifty year old Match Teacher and two teenage boys, one obtuse and the other skinny and frail don't fall under sexually attractive."

Derek raised his hand for a second, and then dropped it. "Revenge."

"No, the letters don't sound like notes of revenge. The UNSUB wouldn't be talking about chess, he would be talking about the sins the victims have committed." Hotchner said.

"What about Religion?" Reid asked while standing up. "Maybe the UNSUB is a part of cult of some kind, there have been reports of Cannibalistic Satanic Cults in the Midwestern United States. Only a year ago the body of a young female was found buried, she had been eaten alive."

Gideon wrote RELIGION on the white board and underlined it.

Chace said, "What if he just likes killing?" Immediately he felt stupid. He was trying to play the profilers game, and he wasn't a player, "Maybe the UNSUB has done it before, and needed a way to up the excitement."

"It is rare, but yes." Reid said. Gideon nodded and wrote another note on the board.

"Team, he is at this school. No one has come in or left since we have gotten here. Now we just need to find him." Hotchner looked at the team. "We need to check up on the body of the girl, Prentiss and Morgan go with Agent Verble and head to her parents. Reid, Gideon and I will re interview the students."

Twenty minutes later, Verble had parked his truck in front of a quaint white suburban house in a neighborhood called Silent Meadows. Verble headed for the door of the house. Derek and Prentiss stayed back. An elderly woman opened the door and peeked out.

"Agent Verble, it is nice to see you again." The woman proclaimed.

"Miss Stiles, we need to talk to you about your granddaughter." Verble sighed, trying to show that he didn't want to bring up the subject. "This is Agent Derek Morgan and Agent Emily Prentiss"

Miss Stiles gazed over to them. "Come on in. I have coffee."

"That would be nice Miss." Derek smiled sweetly."

The three agents made their way into the house and sat on a sofa in a comfortable living room lined with a decorative floral wall. Miss Stiles came in with two steaming cups of coffee. The smell of the fresh coffee filled the room quickly.

"What do you need to ask me about Agent Verble?" Miss Stiles asked.

"There has been more murders, at Newton Private School near Moore." Verble explained.

"You think they are related to Jessica?"

"Maybe. The Agents just wanted to ask you some questions."

Its ok Rachel, it is ok. He is gone, you got away, and it's ok. It's ok. Rachel shuddered and held her arms around her legs. The man who had chased her all the way to the Olympic style pool had left and he wasn't coming back. She gave a trembling sigh and stood after a long minute. The pool was quiet, and peaceful. It looked so pretty and serene with the blue chorine moving back and forth under the dimmed lights. Rachel stepped to it, and put the tip of her fingers in. Closing her eyes she thought of the pool she had in her backyard back home, and all the happy memories she had from it. Her dad teaching her how to dive, her mother reading her Nancy Drew stories while they floated on inflatable's, her boyfriend Jacob kissing her for the first time while their legs splashed in the water.

Something cold sent a shiver down her spine; it was the touch of freezing steel against her neck. She fell forward into the pool; the splash echoed around her, there was another splash, a sharp pain in her stomach, and another across her chest. Her ruby red blood filled the pool like a red cloud as she was washed away in her memories.

The killer was in his own set of memories, his first kill, three years ago, and the long string of murders after that. He had lost count; Rachel must have been near the twenty mark, or even past it. The slut had died horrifically, or perfectly in the eyes of the sick. Only he would truly get it though, and he wanted it to stay that way.

The body was found thirty minutes later, someone nearby had heard the splash, and knew the pool was restricted at these hours. Reid was first on the scene, his heart filled with dread. This made four murders in two days. Two days. What had possessed the killer to take lives so often? It was the same killer; the note was left, of course, near the pool in a get well soon card bought from a Hallmark.

It wasn't the card that made Reid sick to his stomach though, it was the post mortem cannibalism. He watched as the police crew pulled the body out of the pool. The killer had gone too far. Reid welled up in anger, the bastard had committed the most disgraceful perverted and horrifying murder Reid had encountered, and he had encountered some horrible ones.

The killer may have been playing a game, but Reid wasn't. The young agent wasn't going to play chess with this monster. Reid was playing the Most Dangerous Game.

Who, you must be getting tired agents. I'm not, I live for this. In a sense you do to. Just you don't want it, the fewer the murders the better, you still get your weekly pay. How are Gideon and Prentiss? I know Reid and Hotchner are doing fine, I see them all the time. Are you enjoying the Oklahoman sun? It is beautiful isn't it.

"Every dorm room was searched, not a trace of any blood, or wine." Hotchner told Reid and Gideon. Derek and Prentiss were on their way to the school.

"How far are we through interviewing the student body?" Gideon asked.

"We are more than halfway." Reid answered.

"Any likely suspects?"

"No, not so far, the students I have interviewed seem to be more interested in the new Johnny Depp film and rap." Reid said.

Derek laughed as he entered the room. "Was that a pop culture reference Reid? Don't get mainstream on me now."

"Don't worry, I don't like rap. It requires no musical talent to play. Most of the time the artists aren't even signing, it just three words and a computer generated beat."

"Ouch Reid." Derek pretended to be punched in the shoulder. "I didn't take you for a rap hater."

"Do you listen to rap?"

"No. That's a stereotype, you can't go listening to stereotypes. That's the path to racism." Derek joked. He always lightened the mood. Reid laughed to the jokes, and then stopped himself.

"The UNSUB! The killer is racist!"

Hotchner looked straight into Reid's eyes. "What?"

"Jack Sophmo is the teacher's adopted brother, the senator is African American. When the UNSUB killed the two students, he completely ignored the black one, didn't even mention him, and in the letters where he talked about our team, he has yet to mention you." Reid pointed at Derek for a moment.

Derek liked the idea and nodded. "The Jessica girl they found buried had recently made a speech at an assembly about racism in America. I read the essay in her room."

Gideon stood, "It sounds crazy, but it is all we got. Ask about any racist remarks from any student, quickly. Reid, call Garcia and get al transfers from public schools in the area. Check with the students and the teachers. I think we might have something."

Authors note: I'm sorry about the obscurity over the death of Rachel, and what happened afterwards. I got a little ahead of my own twistedness, and came up with something rather sick but I wanted to keep the story Teen.

***

The tall man wasn't sure how close the BAU was to catching him. He had planned for them to practically be on him by now, but no such luck, these idiots couldn't get him even when he laid out all the clues. He would only be famous if he was caught, if he could confess the forty seven murders he had committed in the past three years of his life. The tall man was 17, but felt much older. Hell, he even looked much older, and sounded older with his sophisticated speech and wisdom beyond what he had heard from most adults. The tall man wasn't afraid of jail either. In the event he got caught, which would be soon, he would plead guilty and get sentenced to life, maximum security. He would plan and buy his way out through there, he always found a way out, and move on, maybe to Brazil.

The tall man loved Brazil; he had gone there once on vacation, it had such pretty ladies. Most of them could easily be his; he had the money and the charm, not to mention the looks. It was his looks that were getting him his next victim, another pretty young girl of 15. She was a freshman, and her name was Elizabeth, but the girl insisted that he call her Betty. It sounded like such a redneck and ugly name, Betty. He didn't tell her so, but only told her he thought Elizabeth was a pretty name for a pretty girl. She fell for that one.

He touched her hand, and brought her around to face him. Elizabeth looked straight into his eyes with hers. They were amazing, large and open, so full of innocence and tenderness, and so delicious. The tall man kissed Elizabeth, and Elizabeth, after a few seconds confusion, kissed back. The tall man moved his left arm around her waist, and pulled her closer. His right arm plunged the knife into her back. Blood flowed into her kiss, she moved back, making lurching gagging sounds. The tall man spit out her blood, moved forward, and stabbed her again with his well used survival knife. Two wounds were enough, the tall man didn't want her to bleed too much, and that would take away from the taste.

Agent Hotchner looked at the body of Elizabeth Cartly with sad eyes. How could they be so close to catching the UNSUB, and still find a dead body every few hours? What was happening to this poor school in such an innocent state? Nothing had been leaked to the news, yet, but Hotchner was sure this would be a major news story. The media would call it the second great tragedy in Oklahoma in twenty years.

The killer left a note, the fifth they had found. Yet another attempt to taunt and tease the BAU about their stupidity and ignorance. Did the bastard know that he was only a few seconds from being caught? Did the bastard want to get caught? No, and yes.

One step closer, are you there yet? Can you smell my trail? Do you know my secrets? No, you will never know, not even when you catch me. I see you are interviewing the entire school now. Determination is a good thing agents, stick with it; you might just get to me. Or maybe I will get to you. Sorry that the letter has to be so short this time. It is bedtime after all. I feel the need to say something cool, like James bond or that idiotic novel character that I will no doubt be compared to, Hannibal Lecter. Can you do me a favor, when you do catch me, don't mention

Hotchner's cell phone rung, a cold mechanic sound filled the quiet Dorm of the dead girl.

"Agent Hotchner." Hotchner answered quickly.

"Howdy." A female voice responded. Hotchner recognized it was Garcia.

"What have you got for us Garcia?"

"If I give you a name, will you buy me dinner?" Garcia asked in her same comical briskness she always spoke with.

Hotchner paused. "Sure."

"Well, first Reid told me to search for any local reports of hate crimes or racist happenings." Garcia spoke a mile a minute.

"Wait wait, Happenings?"

"Direct quote."

Hotchner smiled.

"So I got about a dozen reports, so I looked in further for any involving teens, then any involving teens at Newton High School. That gave me three names, Dudley Theodore, Alice Harper, and Alec Morton. So then I remembered that the UNSUB mentioned chess, so I looked for members of the Chess club. And I got one name. Alec Morton."

Chace Verble sat back in the crooked uncomfortable chair. He wasn't good at this, the psychology part of the job. Gideon apparently thought Chace was decent enough; he had assigned him to do part of the interviewing, a room away from Reid and two down from Gideon himself. He was going admittedly slower than the others as well; he was making sure not to miss a thing.

"October 21, 1989." The teen across the desk said. Chace looked over at him. That's right; Chace had asked the kid his birth date.

"Sorry, it has been a long night," Chace said, "What was your name again?"

"That's alright. Alec Morton." Alec smiled, it was a cocky smile Chace noted that, and pretended to write it down. Alec didn't try to see what Chace was writing. Every other person had so far.

"You are a junior?"

"Yes."

"Are you dating anyone?" Chace asked, and looked up from his notebook.

"No, why does it matter?" Alec asked, with that smirk still on his round face. The teen was tall, 6'0 at Chace's best estimate, had a straight calming face that most girls wooed over, thick brown eyes that gave away nothing, and thin lips.

"I'm just asking. Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"I broke up with a girl recently."

"Last night?"

"No. It was six months ago."

Chace held in a smile. This Alec kid had almost obvious traces of red lipstick on his mouth. "Are you gay?"

"No." Alec spoke calmly, Chace believed him.

"Do you know a girl named Elizabeth Cartly?"

Alec stood quickly; he had a knife to Chace's throat in only a second. How the hell did he move so fast? Chace thought, trying to get out of the powerful teen's grip.

"You asked the wrong question." Alec laughed, and pushed the knife harder against Chace's neck, but didn't draw blood.

Someone banged on the door, Alec turned, and Chace turned with him. Reid burst through with his pistol aimed squarely at Alec's chest.

"Ah ah ah, you shoot me, this Agent Verble dies." Alec laughed.

***

Agent Reid kept his gun aimed at Alec.

"Agent Reid, put down the gun or you will have Agent Verble's death on your hands. I don't think you could handle that."

Reid slowly moved his gun down to his waist.

"Check Reid, I guess you have to move or else you lose. Get out of the room, now!" Alec shouted harshly.

Reid winced and took a few steps back. He was calm, and remained calm; his mind was racing, trying to figure out the best move. Alec let go of Chace and went backwards towards the only window in the room. It was unlocked, and Reid was helpless to stop the killer's escape. He should have fired; he should have taken the risk. He went straight to the window to try and track Alec's path of escape, but there was no luck, the killer had disappeared. Gideon rushed in only a few moments later.

"Where is he?" Gideon asked quickly, his own gun raised.

"Out the window."

"Dead?" Gideon asked, they were on the third floor after all.

Reid opened his mouth, but Chace answered first, "No, he got away."

Gideon moved out of the room and sprinted, Reid and Chace followed. "He is on the second floor." Gideon shouted back to them, all three burst into the stair case and began their rhythmic running down the stairs, then once again out a door onto the same hall on the second floor. Sure enough, Alec was running down the other end, Chace spotted the now infamous survival knife clutched in Alec's hand. Gideon raised his gun. "Alec, stop!" He yelled at the fleeing serial killer.

Of course, Alec didn't listen, but kept running, past a group of frightened looking girls. One of the girls twisted over behind a trail of blood. Alec had slashed one of them while moving. Gideon and Chace kept forward, Reid knelt next to the girl and tried to stop the bleeding. Alec had hit an artery in her leg. Reid knew the girl was gone.

Gideon stayed a few steps ahead of Chace; his eyes flickered past every door, searching for Alec. He was nowhere to be seen in the new hall. The two stopped, and began to move slowly, their guns pointing out, and their bodies turning in every direction, searching for the killer. There was a click, then Gideon was pulled back, and something burned into his side, a knife. Alec held Gideon tightly, with one hand over the wound in his lower back.

"Apparently my knife can cut through Kevlar." Alec laughed in Gideon's ear. Chace spun, and lowered his weapon.

"Check yet again." Alec joked, "Better not mess up your move again."

"Alec, don't!" Chace yelled.

"I killed Mr. Sophmo, Mitch, that slut Rachel, Elizabeth, and some poor unsuspecting girl in the hall, and plenty of others. What makes you think I won't kill Agent Gideon?"

Chace smiled right back, "Oh I never thought you couldn't kill Gideon. It just, you forgot about a major lesson of Chess."

Alec narrowed his eyes. He would play this game."And what would that be?"

"Sometimes, you just have to make sacrifices." Chace fired once at Gideon, straight in the chest, Gideon was pushed straight back into Alec. The killer moved to the side, Chace pointed and fired again, catching Alec's knee. The killer let out a blood curdling scream and dropped on his good leg, Chace stepped forward and pistol whipped Alec across the cheek, the killer fell face first onto the ground and passed out.

Hotchner stood next to Agent Prentiss and shook his head. "He actually shot Gideon?"

"Yep." Prentiss answered, her gaze locked on the killer in the ambulance.

"I like this Verble kid."

A paramedic touched Gideon's side, lightly, Gideon flinched. Chace walked up to the older Agent with a triumphant smile. "Sorry about that Agent Gideon."

"That is what the Kevlar is for, "Gideon grunted as the paramedic applied patch to the knife wound.

"The son of a bitch wasn't expecting that." Chace laughed. Gideon nodded in agreement, and smiled through gritted teeth. "How bad is it?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

"The knife wound hurts like a mother, but the bruise on the ribs isn't that bad."

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid stood next to each to each other inside the school building and looked over the ambulances and police cars from a window.

"This was a bad one Reid." Derek sighed.

Reid only nodded

"You ok Reid?"

Reid looked over at Derek. "Five murders in two nights. I heard this guy is getting Life in a sanitarium."

"That is what we are aiming for." Derek said.

"And now he is confessing to nearly fifty other murders in the past three years?"

"Yes."

"Do you belive him?"

"He hasnt lied to us yet," Reid said.

"Agent Chace Verble?" Hotchner asked, stepping next to the young Oklahoman and smiling over at Gideon.

"That's me." Chace nodded.

"You like your job at the local FBI station?"

"I guess. It's pretty easy." Chace shrugged. Gideon gave Hotchner his sly grin. He knew what was coming.

"If I was to offer you a harder job up at Quantico, what would you say?"

"I'd have to know what the job is first."

Hotchner looked straight into Chace's eyes. "There is an opening in the BAU."

"Then it would have to be yes."

"Agent Reid?" A police officer walked in.

"Yes?"

"The killer was holding something, I think you should see it." The man handed Reid a crumpled piece of paper.

Checkmate, you win. Good show Agent Reid, good show. Come and visit me in prison please, I will miss what little company you and I shared. Say hi to the rest of the team for me, they played well. You got ahead of me, and that is hard to do. Ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao,ciao,ciao,ciao,

Alec Morton was in an intense pain, but he had felt worse, that was a long time ago, when his heart had died. He mouthed the name "Victoria" before the sedatives put him back into a deep sleep.

***

Epilogue

Garcia tapped away at her computer, her mind was completely set on making a new security program for her laptop, not that she needed it. The building was almost completely dark.

'Hello? Agent Penelope Garcia?" a dark voice called to her. He flipped on a light. In the doorway that framed Garcia's office stood a man in a suit.

"That's me."

"Delivery." The man sat down a large box and the smell of pizza wafted to her. Garcia giggled, clapped, and took the box. Written on it in computer typed letter was: Here is that Dinner I owe you.

From Hotchner.

***