GOT A SWEET FACE ˚ ✰
BUT I ONLY PLAY VILLAIN
FALL OR FLY.
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▃ view #1 ▃
13 MAY, 2004
— THE PAST
Domination may live in Peace's
shadow — two
In Greek mythology, after Prometheus, a fire god and divine trickster, had stolen fire from heaven and bestowed it upon mortals, Zeus, the king of the gods, was determined to counteract this blessing. He accordingly commissioned Hephaestus to fashion a woman out of earth, upon whom the gods bestowed their choicest gifts. Pandora, the first woman, had a jar containing all manner of misery and evil.
Zeus sent her to Epimetheus, who forgot the warning of his brother Prometheus and made Pandora his wife. She afterward opened the jar, from which the evils flew out over the earth. Hope alone remained inside, the lid having been shut down before she could escape.
It wasn't that difficult to believe that a women is the cause of all the misery in the world— it made sense.
Women weren't meant for the world. They were meant to sit at home in peace to protect their husbands tiny egos.
That's what they have us all believe.
They would rather have us believe that we were nothing, than deal with the chaos that will rise if women knew their worth.
People are ugly. I know that.
I saw that.
I felt that.
But you know that, don't you? That's why you choose the strong ones from the heard, and not the one that get lost behind.
Because the boys you kill, they aren't innocent, I thought they are— but they aren't. They are liars, and rapists and an abomination to mankind but you? You're worst of them all.
You kill them because you had a daughter.
I know that because my daddy would've gone mad too if some boy hurt me.
I think your daughter is dead.
Do you remember her dying or do you just close that off ?
What have you made of yourself, wouldn't she hate you?
Now women, you know are meant to be a certain way— I'm nothing like that. I don't want to be.
I blame society.
I blame society because I see evil everywhere. I see it in their eyes when they lie or when they want to hurt.
I see the bad weather.
My brother thinks I'm crazy to doubt everything, he thinks I'm just scared.
I'm not.
I'm not scared that any day a monster like you can harm me, but I'm scared for him. He sees good in people. He trust people. He likes people.
I'm scared that one day he will trust someone capable of despicable things.
Like father Paul.
Did I tell you that he got arrest for running a human trafficking ring.
I saw that coming.
I saw it in this eyes.
I saw the anger, and the storm.
Daddy used to say I have a gift.
Doesn't feel like it.
But don't worry, I didn't forget about you—I'm onto you.
Just know that I'm waiting and when the right time comes, I'm eating you alive.
Starving,
Maya
▃ view #3 ▃
3 AUGUST, 2004
3:47 PM
— THE PRESENT
You could ask Spencer Reid any statistics, or the origin of a word and he would give you the answer, but interrogating a suspect was not his forte.
He was too unthreatening, too young, too fidgety or maybe too nervous to demand answers— but the thirst to figure this case out was maybe too intense to let it quench.
He entered the room as silently he could, which didn't matter because none of the two people in the room acknowledged him anyways.
Maya Nyx, if that even was her name, looked more healthier that she did in the CCTV footage they saw earlier in the day, Morgan on the other hand looked more angry than he did when he entered the room.
Spencer thought un- cuffing Maya would be a good place to start the trust building process, but the glare she gave him definitely made him doubt that.
Untrusting were his legs, but he still sits next to Morgan— quiet.
Her hands are under the table, cocooned amongst her thighs. They're still, unmoving.
"Fix yourself up." The man, Agent Morgan nods at the bag Spencer had just kept on the table— Maya stares at it, blinks. Neusporin and bandaids.
"For your chin." He chuckles."and thumb." He stares down at her, "and knee."
Maya was the epitome of calm. Her face is deadpan, stony. She doesn't talk unless needed to, doesn't crack, just continues to stare and occasionally blink.
After a while, she lifts a slow hand in response, showing him the purpling and crooked finger.
"He broke it." She mumbles, straightforward.
"Who?" He asks.
"The detective before." She says.
"Sorry." But it sounded like he was not. "Put a bandaid on it." He's spiteful.
She's a wax figure. An inanimate being. She gives no emotion, no tangible evidence as to how she's feeling.
"Why'd you do it?" He starts, like her offering to give up her brother didn't just happen.
Silence.
"Do what?" Finally, an answer.
Her face is stony, blank of any expression she doesn't wish to share.
It pisses the man off.
He gets up, slamming his hands on the table.
"Don't play dumb with me." He warns, practically snarls. His face comes inches away from the girl.
Maya twitches, but she doesn't answer. She simply blinks, turning her head away from the man whose stare demanded a greater degree of subsistence.
Her eyes greet the crack in the ceiling.
"Answer me!" He swipes at the bag, it flying and landing all the way across the room.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She mumbles. She looks back-her eyes are stone.
He huffs. Swipes at his nose and slams the table before walking away. His hands are on his hips, pacing the room.
He stops, pauses.
A phone rings-his phone. And, God, the look that washed over the man's face when it did was sinister.
He takes the phone off the clip that hangs on his belt and sets it on the middle of the table.
"You're in deep shit." He concludes. He answers the call, smirking.
"Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, Penelope Garcia speaking."
"Garcia," he grins. "did you find anything?"
Maya gives no reaction, and she looks away. The only thing the girl seemed to have contact with was walls, floors, and ceilings.
"Seeing as the only information you could give on her was her alias -I found... a lot, actually."
The man chuckles. "Give it to me, baby girl."
"I found his brother, Helios."
Clicking noises from the mouse, tapping noises from the keyboard.
"And, get this- Maya—"
The disturbance caused by the steel door abruptly opening is what allows Cecilia to release a breath.
The man who entered before, his voice sounding off the walls in resonating waves. He has long hair Cecilia likes, and wears a blue sweater vest.
"Morgan you need to get out." He says, holding open the door.
It takes a while before Morgan leaves, and when he does she makes sure to slam the door shut.
Maya counts two minutes before the tension dissolves.
The younger man smiles at Maya— or at lest tries to.
"I apologize." His hands hovers over the table as he waits for her to take hold of the ziplock.
Maya takes it from him, the bag.
"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid."
FALL OR FLY.
( criminal minds fan- fiction! )
pre/ season one
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