Battlecry | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 20

~September, 1996~

This is it. It'll all end tonight.

One way or another.

Happy goddamn birthday to me.

The shadows are heavy around me as I stalk through the corridors. Andrew's team took the western side of the building, Janelle in the eastern. And me, accompanied by Gideon and two SWAT agents, right in the center.

It's an abandoned mental hospital. Of course Murphy needs a building with a creepy backstory to hide out in. So far, we've found no one—the place is even more abandoned than the other hideouts we've busted. No furniture, no trash, not even an inch of graffiti. It's completely and utterly empty.

It was a long process, finding this place. For months we've gone from hideout to hideout, shutting down their operations and arresting the few people we found within. This is Murphy's last escape route. His last option. We've flushed him out, and now we're ready to cage him up.

"Hold up," I whisper back to the others. Before me is a staircase. "Gideon, you go up. Wyatt, left, and Rogers to the right," I order, gesturing down each hallway with the barrel of my gun. "I'll go down."

The two SWAT agents nod and peel off, but Gideon stays beside. "We shouldn't split up," he says.

"We need to cover more ground." When I see the concern on his face, my tone softens. "I'll be okay. Promise."

He gives me one last worried look before disappearing up the stairs. I take a deep breath and descend into the shadows. At the bottom is a huge metal door, cracked open to reveal dim blue lighting inside. I slowly draw it open, the hinges letting out a shrill squeak. Gun raised, I walk down the corridor before me, taking note that the door behind me clicks shut.

The hallway is long, dark, and silent. The blue light source comes from strips of LEDs that line where the walls meet the ceiling. It's narrow, just wide enough for my hands to touch either side if I stretch my arms out. My footsteps echo into the shadows, my flashlight sweeping towards the door at the end of the hall. Same as the first, massive and sturdy and cracked open. I slide through, gun tight in my hand.

As soon as I've passed the threshold, the door shuts. My body goes rigid as I hear the metallic whirring and final click of a magnetic lock setting into place. I turn around, pulling at the handle. It doesn't budge.

"No going back now," I mutter under my breath.

I turn back around, flashlight beam sweeping across the room. It lingers on something directly across from me. Something that makes my blood run cold.

In the center of the room is a wide, wooden, square support column. Maybe six feet off the floor are two pairs of handcuffs, dangling open. The wood is scratched and stained red.

I can smell it now. The coppery tang of blood. My flashlight beam continues on to a metal table that holds an assortment of devices. Shears, pliers, rope, row upon row of knives—

"So kind of you to join me."

I jump backwards into the door, beam sweeping towards the sound of his voice. Murphy stands next to the column now, leaning against it. Twirling a blade in his fingers.

"I was hoping I'd get to see you tonight," he goes on. He turns toward me, eyes glittering in the light. "Happy birthday."

My finger nocks on my trigger. "Drop the knife."

Murphy takes a careless step towards me as if he didn't hear. "It's a beautiful weapon," he muses. "Strong design, delicate blade. Perfect for—" he makes a slicing motion in the air, a breath away from his throat.