"Sometimes, the best offense was avoiding self-destruction."
― Brandon Mull
"Ugh. It's always so boring between jobs." complained the woman, her voice echoing into the phone.
"You know the rules. Just relax for a bit. Read a book." suggested the voice on the other line.
The woman sighed as she stretched her legs, her pale skin light in comparison to the black surrounding the balcony. "I don't know how you expect me to relax. You know me, I never can. I always have to be doing something. If you would let me take another job, you wouldn't have to deal with my boredom." she said, bobbing her head to the music floating down the Parisian street from the small restaurant on the corner. "Maybe I'll get a new plaything while I'm here." she continued, thinking back to the waiter with salt and pepper hair that had served her earlier in the evening.
"I'll try. Who knows, maybe someone may be in desperate need of your skills." the man whispered into the phone. His voice muffled against her blonde hair.
A grin spread across her delicate features. She liked her work. Sure it could be gruesome, but the pay was good, and the job market was steady.
"What?...yeah, I'll tell her." the man sounded concerned as his attention turned back to the woman.
"What is it?" she asked, intrigued that someone was listening to their conversation.
"They called in the FBI. The BAU, I think. They're gonna hold a press conference. I have to go. Try to relax, take a bath or something." then the phone call ended with a small click. She looked at her phone in disbelief.
"That fucker hung up on me," she remarked. It was slightly amusing, mostly due to the fact she could kill him over a hundred different ways. She smiled as she closed the balcony doors, blocking the cold night air from entering the small apartment.
She decided to heed his advice and try to relax. A bath would do the trick. As she entered the bathroom she saw her laptop sitting near the tub. Suddenly a lightbulb went off above her head. The FBI was having a press conference. She was bored. Why not laugh at assumptions made by old white men who have never felt real pain? And with that, she opened her laptop in search of the feed.
*
"Once again, she is extremely dangerous and should not be approached-" she sat in the warm water watching, watching this man pick her brain apart. It would be lying to say she didn't feel some sort of limerence for him. He wasn't what she was expecting after all. After watching mind-dumbing reporters ask question after question, the conference was finally over. Why not learn more about this mystery, man, Dr. Spencer Reid?
*
"..okay, Mr.Genius. Two can play this game." After taking a deep dive into the man's history, she had learned quite a bit about him. An IQ of 187, almost even with her IQ of 190, but zero social skills. That she decided was the difference. That and he was the classic portrayal of good. But she could change that. Love is a powerful motivator, and from the way he was speaking, he seemed to be fascinated by her, almost pleased he came across her.
She had set up a timeline of significant events. It went as follows.
Schizophrenic mother and had to take care of himself.
Bullied. A lot.
Graduates high school at 12
Goes to Caltech
Blah blah blah boring
Joins the FBI at 21. Recruited by Jason Gideon.
Kidnapped, drug addiction. (since clean)
More boring stuff.
Migraines. Seeks help from a woman named Maeve Donovan
He and Maeve call every Sunday.
Maeve is killed in front of him. AKA more trauma.
Boring stuff again.
Framed for murder.
Goes to prison
Kills people in prison (tap into potential?)
Gets out of prison
More trauma
Becomes obsessed with her. (hasn't happened yet, but the plan was in the making.)
From what she could tell, Spencer had had a hard life. If anyone should be angry at the world, it's him, and from what she could tell, he was.
After around 2 hours of soaking, she decided she should eat. She exited the tub, quickly glancing at herself in the mirror. She didn't look her best, but not as bad as she had been. She hadn't bothered to take her mascara off, and the steam had made it run, leaving gray trails snaking down her cheeks. Her skin was flushed, highlighting the small freckles dotting the bump on her nose. She was interrupted from her reflection by her phone ringing. Quickly picking it up, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey. I got a job for you.."
*
She had a love-hate relationship with hits like these. She hated the mess, and it was much more brutal for the people around the target, but it was relaxing to exhale with her finger on the trigger. A moment of calm before the shit storm began. Her piercing eye looking through the site, trained on her target, she inhaled a breath of cool air from the top of the roof before exhaling and pulling the trigger.
It was silent. All you saw was a man fall on the steps. Then you saw the lake of crimson begin to pool around his head. She was never one to leave things to chance, especially not when she's paid for it.
She hurriedly packed up her supplies before rushing down the flights of stays to the truck in the loading dock waiting for her. She checked her phone and saw that Terrence had booked her a first-class seat to London.
"i want to give up my bearings, slip out of who I am, shed everything, the way a snake discards old skin."
― Khaled Hosseini,
a/n so so sorry this is short, I have it planned out a little more now and I almost put two chapters in this so I had to cut it in half. im going to try to write more during the week, happy holidays! I know this isn't half as good as the first chapter but it will get better. promise
thanks for reading and please vote!
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Bitter
FanfictionIn which one Spencer Reid experiences limerence with a woman he barely knows, or so she thinks. Spencer Reid has been detached from the team since he and JJ were taken hostage by an unsub, and a bomb was dropped on their friendship. His obsession wi...
