Bitter

Chapter Eleven

"I decry the injustice of my wounds, only to look down and see that I am holding a smoking gun in one hand and a fistful of ammunition in the other."

― Craig D. Lounsbrough

Manon gripped tightly onto Spencer's hand. Her fingernails pressing red crescents into his palm. Spencer had tears in his eyes. Manon's were just filled with determination.

Manon looked across her self proclaimed battlefield, at the fallen figure ahead of her. She whispered something to Spencer and he shot across the distance. She watched him strip off his button up, relieving his surprisingly toned stomach, his shirt becoming more red every moment he pressed it to Hotch's shoulder. She had aimed her shot perfectly, He wouldn't die, but he would be in the hospital for a long while, long enough for her to run.

Manon picked up her shell casings, and rushed across the rooftop. Dragging Spencer up by his arm. "We have to go, now!"

"We can't just leave him! You shot him Manon! You shot my fucking boss! Jesus christ! What the fuck am I gonna do? I can't go back to work! But if I leave they will know I had something to do with it and then I can never go back to work! Fuck! You turn my brain into god damn potato mush!"

"Calm the fuck down pretty boy. He won't die, and I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna call the cops from my burner phone, and by the time they get here we will be on our way out of the country."

"Yeah. Yeah, that works. We can do that. Fuck."

"Follow me." Manon said. Hotch was glaring at her, his face distorted into a mixture of pain and disgust. "You tell anyone Spencer's involved and I'll pay Jack a visit. Maybe he should see mommy."

Spencer stared at her shocked, she had threatened Jack, the one thing Hotch wouldn't risk. He knew he should be thankful for being spared from Hotch's recount, but he couldn't get over the threat.

*

Manon had sped through the streets, ditching her car a half mile away and just sprinting to the airfield. The door to the plane was already opened, and Spencer assumed she had called ahead to let them know she needed a speedy getaway.

Boarding the plane she whispered something into the pilots ear, probably a location, or their current situation.

"Pavol will swing around to your house and get some clothes for you, or when we get there I can just buy you more."

"Are we not going to talk about this?" Spencer said angrily.

"Talk about what? Me saving your ass from prison?"

"Hah. Could've used that two years ago. But no, how you shot my boss and threatened to kill his child!"

"Oh really? You wanna bring that shit up? If it weren't for me you would be fired, and possibly go to prison!"

"I've been to prison, I can survive, but I don't think you can. I think that's why you took me. You have a fear of abandonment and knew that if you could get me on a plane I would never leave you! You are lonely, and a bitch. You are just another blond bimbo with daddy issues that wants to play god!" Spencer shouted.

He knew this wasn't sustainable, at least not like this, they were both toxic, and manipulative.

"Then we're perfect for each other Mr. My-dad-left-me-and-I-couldn't-deal-so-i-became-an-FBI-agent. You are just like me, maybe even worse. I have a reason why I'm like this. Fucking Terrence, but all you have to blame is your moronic mother and asshole dad."

Spencer's mind started thinking, he needed more. He still wanted to understand her.

"Truth or Dare?"

"What?" Manon hissed.

"Truth or dare."

"Dare."

"There are no dares. Sorry I mislead you." He smirked.

"Fine. Truth."

"Why are you like this?"

Manon laughed. "Why am I like this? We don't have enough time to cover the multitude of ways I'm fucked up. Let's see, abusive dad, Terrence, Marcus, having my family killed, being straight up tortured for six months, and being a fucking sociopath."

"Interesting self diagnoses. I think you're more of a psychopath, more cold, calculating. You pretend to care but can't form genuine emotional attachments. You manipulate people and think of them as objects for your amusement. You are cold and calculating, you always have a backup plan. That's what makes you the perfect hitman. You are cool and level headed, incapable of feeling remorse for your victims.

You display the tell tale signs. High intelligence, level headedness in crisis, you mimic emotions, you're extremely charming, but only keep people when they're useful."

The concerned and angry look in her eyes left, and her lips flashed a smile at him.

"Shame on me. I'm not gonna change. I know you put a lot of work into that profile, but new studies suggest that psychopaths have a sort of.. Empathy switches in their brain. On and off. They also found that loving upbringings can help prevent full blown psychopaths.

I'm also not your average psychopath, I never killed an animal, but I do have one very psychopathic trait, one you can vouch for. Fearless dominance, I will take leadership roles with no prompt, because I have no fear of my reputation. If i wasn't in this business i would be very talented at climbing the corporate ladder."

Spencer watched as her attention snapped to something behind him, he assumed it was a ploy for him to turn, before he could tell her it wouldn't work, he felt a cold metal against his skull.

"God damn it. What the fuck is with you people that I always end up with a gun to my head!" He yelled.

"Manon, who is this?"

"Marcus. Long time no see? How's the wife? Oh wait, I forgot. Sorry to remind you."

"I forgave you for that, don't say something you'll regret.'

"Jokes on you, according to Spencer here I can't feel regret or moral qualms.''

"Hey I never said that! But this is Marcus?" Spencer stuttered, so this was who formed her into a killer. Part of him wanted to study him, the other half wanted to beat him into a pulp.

"You can't see me dumbass.' Marcus sneered. Spencer snapped his attention to movement to his side. Manon was holding a gun to Marcus's head, or where he assumed it was.

"Marcus, this is how it's gonna work-"

"Excuse me? I have a gun to your boyfriend's head and you're gonna tell me how it's gonna work?"

"He said it himself, I can't feel remorse, I don't really care about him, I can't form emotional connections." her voice was laced with venom and a hint of mockery.

"Then you won't care if I do this?" Spencer heard the gun cock and Manon scream something before he felt heat and heard the bang.

Spencer's side was on fire, he'd felt the fire before, he shot him. Fucking Marcus shot him, and Manon shot Marcus. He crumpled to the floor of the jet. He looked up at Manon's face, covered in a splatter of blood, the crimson liquid already drying in her hair, he mouthed "Help." before his vision went dark, the sweet grip of death nipping at his feet.