"You- You mean to tell me that you want me to talk to the Dream killer?!" George was incredulous.
"Look, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to," Schlatt reminded him. "It's entirely your decision, but it would look amazing on your record." That swayed George a little.
"Alright, sir, I will."
"That's the spirit, kid! Come back at 5PM, I'll have a briefing ready for you entailing the information you need to gather from him. I myself will take you to the asylum. I'll get tickets, we'll leave for Florida at 11 AM on Wednesday, comprende?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you understand that the Dream killer is a dangerous, dangerous man?"
"Yes, sir."
"You'll alert me of any cold feet?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Agent Derekson, you are dismissed," Schlatt motioned toward the door with one hand. The other gripped a half-full bottle, his second drink since George had walked in. Not bothering to correct him, George dipped his head respectfully on his way out. He kept his face straight, but on the inside he was silently screaming in excitement and anticipation. He was going out into the real world to speak to a dangerous psychopath! A normal person would be utterly disgusted by George's reaction to that fact. An FBI trainee would understand completely. As a fourth-year, it was incredibly unlikely for him to be assigned a task outside of the Academy. To be assigned a task outside of the Academy by Schlatt, well, that was no mean feat.
"MAISIE, YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT I'M DOING NEXT WEDNESDAY!"
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Wednesday morning couldn't come soon enough for George. Maisie had to keep telling the boy to calm down, stop bouncing, breathe normally, etcetera. When the time finally came to leave the Academy, George was buzzing. His eyes were wide in anticipation and their size didn't decrease the whole time that he and Schlatt were boarding. By the time they were on the plane, George was well and truly conked out. Schlatt rolled his eyes when he noticed that the brunette's body was no longer shaking. The kid had properly tired himself out and was fast asleep beside him. Schlatt smiled an unfamiliar smile, one that nobody really saw from him. It was the kind of smile that new mothers and fathers gave their children. The kind of smile that young kids gave their pets when the cat came to have cuddles. A smile of love, of admiration. Schlatt almost slapped himself across the face when he realised he was doing it again.
"Alright, Sleeping Beauty, enough. You're a grown man, get your ass up. We're almost here," Schlatt snapped at George, who was beginning to stir. He sat up, blinking against the harsh sunlight that filled the cabin.
"Florida?" He asked groggily. If George was honest, the excitement he had felt over the course of the week had kept him from sleeping and if it wasn't for the constant adrenaline, he'd have died.
"Where else?" Schlatt snarled. George woke up completely at the General's hostile tone.
"Good morning to you too, sir..." George murmured a little too loudly.
"Don't try me, asshole. I'm still sober enough to beat you to death," Schlatt drawled, pointing an angry finger at George.
"Oh, I bet you are," the Brit rolled his eyes, sketching with a yawn. The New Yorker was seriously starting to get on his nerves. Soon enough though, the plane began to slow. The two agents rose from their seats, fighting the crowd of passengers to get out of the plane.
"You remember what Mr. Minecraft told you to do?" Schlatt asked as they went through customs. George nodded, fingering the shiny laminated badge that hung around his neck.
"Choose a taxi, flash the badge and tell the driver that I need to get to Pandora's Box by twelve PM," George repeated proudly.
"There ya go. Right then. Meet ya at the hotel later tonight, kid." George turned to the general in surprise.
"Wait, sir, you're leaving me to speak to a serial killer on my own? Why aren't you coming with me?"
"Because those god damn flight attendants didn't have any decent drinks on that plane. I'm going to go find a bar and I don't need you judging me, Dirkson, got it? Besides, you know what to do. I already know that your professors have you well-prepared for this, so don't come crying to me with that 'what if I stuff it up' bullshit," Schlatt explained, mocking George's still very prominent British accent. "Besides, you're almost twenty-six. You don't need me to hold your hand while you cross the fuckin' street."
"But sir-"
"But nothing. If you want to get to Pandora's by noon, you'd better get going," Schlatt shut the brunette down by turning on his heel and setting off down the street, leaving George alone on the pavement. George started to run after his superior but halted himself. Schlatt obviously didn't give two shits about him or his career, so it was time to take matters into his own hands. The higher powers at the Academy would definitely be getting a strongly-worded testimony against the general, so why not milk the situation a little? George's independence on this case would either be beautifully praised or severely punished, there was no grey area. Why not try?
George caught a glimpse of yellow streaking by. He swore loudly as the taxi flew past him. He would have to wait for another one to pass. George anxiously glanced at his watch. 11:34. He was never one for tardiness. He couldn't stand it when he or others were late for something, and had lost friendships over it. The thought of possibly missing his tight window of opportunity sent nervous shivers up his spine. He spotted another yellow car in the distance and panicked, frantically waving to flag it down. The driver of the car raised an eyebrow but stopped for the young man. Panting both from the effort and in relief, George showed the driver his ID card and repeated where he needed to go. The driver was slightly stunned, to say the least. What was a British FBI agent doing in his taxi cab asking to go to an asylum?
"That's classified," was the answer he recieved. Still a little stunned, the cabbie stepped on the accelerator, shooting the car forward. Though his fingernails dug into the skin on his legs in fear, George said nothing. This taxi driver was reckless and drove terrifyingly. He wondered how on earth he got his license, let alone a job. Never mind that, though. George had more pressing things to worry about. George closed his eyes, hoping that if he stopped looking, the car would slow down. After what felt like hours, it finally came to a stop. His folder tucked under his arm, George thanked the driver, paid, and turned to face the reason he was in Florida in the first place. He walked up the long driveway, staring at the cobblestone walls that surrounded the path. He paused in front of the large, gilded door handles.
The Dream Killer was just behind those double doors.
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Word count: 1210
Luna xx
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Criminal Minds ~ DNF
Fanfiction"Why do you stay? After everything I've done, all the people I've killed to get to you, why?" "Because you're not as bad as you make out to be." This is a DNF AU inspired by The Silence Of The Lambs. It follows the storyline till about chapter 8 whe...
