The Lost Ones, 19/?
Title: The Lost Ones
Rating: R
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Suspense
Summary: Chicago, 1997. A beat cop and a federal agent join forces to solve the mystery behind the disappearance of a homeless teenager. They uncover a conspiracy that turns their fight for justice into a fight for their lives.
The Lost Ones
Chapter Nineteen
The building did not look particularly ominous; it looked just the same as any other building on the block, most of which were apartments. At best, this building was a brothel, at worst, a gravesite. He’d pulled the file for the building, a file which listed it as empty. From the street, it was hard to tell - the windows were boarded up, and there were no lights on. It was late afternoon, though, closing in on forty-eight hours since Prentiss and Morgan’s disappearance.
If everything Hotch’s gut was telling him was accurate, then it was this building that they’d been taken from. The circumstances had been enough to allow for a raid, which was why Aaron Hotchner found himself at the rear end of a S.W.A.T team. He felt the adrenaline rushing as the door was taken care of with a battering ram. He followed the S.W.A.T team in, only to feel the adrenaline screeching to a halt as it became evident that the building was empty.
He re-holstered his weapon, and stepped back out into the early evening air. Chicago P.D. officers were clearing the rest of the building, but Hotch was fairly certain that they wouldn’t find anyone; kidnapped law enforcement officers or otherwise. This had been an ambush.
All hope was not lost, though. He could still canvass the neighborhood to determine if anyone had seen something. If he could confirm that the two had in fact, been in the building, then it might be enough to get a forensics team in.
He pulled the two personnel photos from his pocket, and made his way to the building opposite. This was going to take a while.
* * *
Emily felt the pain shoot through her body as she was pulled to her feet. She wasn’t extensively wounded, by any sense of the word - there was a fair bit of bruising, and a mild concussion, but nothing life-threatening. Of course, any injury left without treatment was wont to become a complete pain in the ass.
She recognized the man who kept a tight grip on her arm. It took a few seconds of the cognitive gears turning before she managed to place the recognition - maybe the head wound was a little worse than she thought. She’d only seen him once - after the other man (Rick?) had shot their accomplice. What was his name, again? Matthew? Michael? Mike. That’s right. He seemed a little less evil than any other bad guy she’d seen so far, but then, he had to be at a certain level of evil to be hanging around them.
Still, it gave her enough some confidence that he might be receptive to questioning. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, painstakingly aware of the fact that her voice was fading.
‘We don’t usually do chicks,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘We had to outsource.’ The pain was quickly overshadowed by horror. Outsourced? They were getting rid of her?
Shit.
She really, really didn’t want that to happen. If they moved her, then she’d definitely be away from Morgan, and that meant any chance of escape was a pipe dream. Any chance of escaping together, that is.
With as much attention as she could muster, she checked out her surroundings. It wasn’t a residential building. Industrial, by the looks of it - maybe the office area of a warehouse. Definitely not where she wanted to be.
Mike pushed open a door at the end of the hallway, pulling her inside after him. Feeling a foot at the back of her knees, she dropped to the ground heavily, wincing at the impact.
There were two other men in the room, both of who had their eyes on her. She felt sick to her stomach.
One of the men stepped forward, head tilted to the side. He was judging her. Like livestock. His hand shot out, grasping at her chin. He tilted her head, examining the bruises that mottled her skin. She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but there was no doubt about the fact that he had the upper hand.
‘Young,’ he said, eventually, ‘Pretty. Damaged goods?’
‘Fuck off,’ she spat at him, which earned her a backhand to the face.
‘Feisty,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s always popular. I have a very dominating clientele.’
‘She’s a Fed,’ the second man said, emphasizing “Fed” as though it was a dirty word, and to them it probably was.
‘Are you fucking serious? What am I supposed to do with a Fed?’
The second man grinned. ‘Like you said - you have a dominating clientele. How many of them would jump at this chance?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the first man said finally. ‘But no promises.’ There was a long pause. ‘Fuck me. A Fed?’
Emily felt the bile rise in her throat, and was vomiting before she had the chance to stop herself.
Rating: R
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Suspense
Summary: Chicago, 1997. A beat cop and a federal agent join forces to solve the mystery behind the disappearance of a homeless teenager. They uncover a conspiracy that turns their fight for justice into a fight for their lives.
The Lost Ones
Chapter Nineteen
The building did not look particularly ominous; it looked just the same as any other building on the block, most of which were apartments. At best, this building was a brothel, at worst, a gravesite. He’d pulled the file for the building, a file which listed it as empty. From the street, it was hard to tell - the windows were boarded up, and there were no lights on. It was late afternoon, though, closing in on forty-eight hours since Prentiss and Morgan’s disappearance.
If everything Hotch’s gut was telling him was accurate, then it was this building that they’d been taken from. The circumstances had been enough to allow for a raid, which was why Aaron Hotchner found himself at the rear end of a S.W.A.T team. He felt the adrenaline rushing as the door was taken care of with a battering ram. He followed the S.W.A.T team in, only to feel the adrenaline screeching to a halt as it became evident that the building was empty.
He re-holstered his weapon, and stepped back out into the early evening air. Chicago P.D. officers were clearing the rest of the building, but Hotch was fairly certain that they wouldn’t find anyone; kidnapped law enforcement officers or otherwise. This had been an ambush.
All hope was not lost, though. He could still canvass the neighborhood to determine if anyone had seen something. If he could confirm that the two had in fact, been in the building, then it might be enough to get a forensics team in.
He pulled the two personnel photos from his pocket, and made his way to the building opposite. This was going to take a while.
* * *
Emily felt the pain shoot through her body as she was pulled to her feet. She wasn’t extensively wounded, by any sense of the word - there was a fair bit of bruising, and a mild concussion, but nothing life-threatening. Of course, any injury left without treatment was wont to become a complete pain in the ass.
She recognized the man who kept a tight grip on her arm. It took a few seconds of the cognitive gears turning before she managed to place the recognition - maybe the head wound was a little worse than she thought. She’d only seen him once - after the other man (Rick?) had shot their accomplice. What was his name, again? Matthew? Michael? Mike. That’s right. He seemed a little less evil than any other bad guy she’d seen so far, but then, he had to be at a certain level of evil to be hanging around them.
Still, it gave her enough some confidence that he might be receptive to questioning. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, painstakingly aware of the fact that her voice was fading.
‘We don’t usually do chicks,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘We had to outsource.’ The pain was quickly overshadowed by horror. Outsourced? They were getting rid of her?
Shit.
She really, really didn’t want that to happen. If they moved her, then she’d definitely be away from Morgan, and that meant any chance of escape was a pipe dream. Any chance of escaping together, that is.
With as much attention as she could muster, she checked out her surroundings. It wasn’t a residential building. Industrial, by the looks of it - maybe the office area of a warehouse. Definitely not where she wanted to be.
Mike pushed open a door at the end of the hallway, pulling her inside after him. Feeling a foot at the back of her knees, she dropped to the ground heavily, wincing at the impact.
There were two other men in the room, both of who had their eyes on her. She felt sick to her stomach.
One of the men stepped forward, head tilted to the side. He was judging her. Like livestock. His hand shot out, grasping at her chin. He tilted her head, examining the bruises that mottled her skin. She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but there was no doubt about the fact that he had the upper hand.
‘Young,’ he said, eventually, ‘Pretty. Damaged goods?’
‘Fuck off,’ she spat at him, which earned her a backhand to the face.
‘Feisty,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s always popular. I have a very dominating clientele.’
‘She’s a Fed,’ the second man said, emphasizing “Fed” as though it was a dirty word, and to them it probably was.
‘Are you fucking serious? What am I supposed to do with a Fed?’
The second man grinned. ‘Like you said - you have a dominating clientele. How many of them would jump at this chance?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the first man said finally. ‘But no promises.’ There was a long pause. ‘Fuck me. A Fed?’
Emily felt the bile rise in her throat, and was vomiting before she had the chance to stop herself.