Jesus
I watched Smallville. I don't know why I hurt myself like this, but I watched it anyway.
When the hell did Lex become more evil than his father?! *smacks head against nearest flat surface* I know, I know, character development and everything but...ick. I'll have more Supernatural related thoughts later but, now, since this was a useless post, an excerpt from that steadily growing series concerning Dylan Scotts. *waves absently towards the Drew Fuller Spam post*
Dr. Spencer Reid had encountered and profiled a large number of killers in his time with the BAU and was well aware of the basic types of serial killers, kidnappers, and terrorists as well as the basic course of action and traits they would follow and possess.
This had seemed straight forward at first. Three men, two brothers and the other, all hailing from Lawrence, Kansas, suspected of murder. The brothers had lost their mother to a house fire and, shortly thereafter, had begun being shunted across the country by their father and never seemed to stay in one place longer than a semester. The other came from a family with a history of mental illness, the accumulation of which was his mother going into the middle of the city and setting herself on fire while screaming how she would return and be all-powerful.
The only obvious strange thing was that one of the men was dead, killed by the police in St. Louis over a year before.
Four young women, the youngest sixteen and the oldest twenty-four, had been found nude, bound, and gagged inside of hotel rooms. The rooms themselves had symbols painted on every free surface, all seeming to originate from the Aztec or Mayan culture. All had been burned alive and were missing their hearts; how exactly that could have happened without the other people on the floor knowing was still being looked in to. The fourth one had provided a break, as their suspected killers were caught leaving.
Their dead man had been caught on tape in the elevator and hadn’t been alone; like in St. Louis he’d been joined by his younger brother but, unlike the last time, there had been another man seen around town with them. It was unclear if they were after more victims, had fled town, or were simply hiding out and waiting. The BAU had been called in after the bodies had been found and the elevator tape reviewed in hopes they’d be able to answer that question.
They’d found them with relative ease, aided by the fact they’d turned themselves in to the highway patrol and were now mere moments from being brought in and questioned. Turning themselves in was another odd thing; they seemed to be at the height of their killing spree but had simply pulled over and flagged down a police car the minute the radio began to run the warning they’d issued.
Also strange was the changing style. There were a number of murders, all female, that could be easily linked to the small group but there were three distinct types. St. Louis had involved the torture of the women and the implication of their significant others, these latest ones in New Orleans had seemed ritualistic in nature, and the two other ‘suspicious deaths’ had been burned alive in highly questionable house fires.
Elle and Morgan had speculated, based on what information they’d gathered from interviews, school records, and the elevator tape, that they were being led by the elder of the three, who seemed to have the more dominate personality. While neither of the other men was reported to be overly anti-social or submissive by friends, they had been seen hanging back and allowing the elder to handle most of their dealings.
“I wouldn’t have thought they were brothers you know.” The girl across from him said, stopping her constant gum cracking suddenly. She’d been chewing the sweet smelling pink mound since she’d come in to give her statement, concerning the three men who’d come by the gas station she’d been working the counter of sometime last night.
“Oh?” Elle said, looking up from her own notes. The girl nodded, hair as pink as her gum save the brown roots, bobbing around her face. “Why do you say that?”
“Well the one with the amazing smile came up and was talking to me about the weather or something while the other two walked around the store. He was really sweet and I was wondering if he was single, you know? Before I knew he was, like, a killer and stuff.”
Dean Winchester, twenty-seven years old, was described as talkative and charming, able to get information out of those he approached before they even realized what they were telling him. He’d dropped out of high school in his senior year, less than one credit short of his diploma, and while considered exceedingly intelligent was never known for applying himself or appearing to care. Some teachers had speculated that the nature of his mother’s death was why he seemed to have a problem getting close to people despite how easily he made friends, but he never lived in one place long enough for anyone to be sure.
“Anyway the tall one in the hoodie just…had some kind of attack. One minute he was fine and looking at twinkies with the other guy and the next he was clutching his head on the floor and twitching. I thought he was having a seizure or something. My aunt Paige sometimes has seizures, epilepsy or something, and it was like that kind of, you know?”
Sam Winchester, twenty-three, was quiet and more withdrawn than his brother but seemed to have much of his appeal because he was just as capable of getting people to talk to him with little effort. He’d gone to college and had been well on his way to a free-ride through law school until he vanished one night. His girlfriend told friends he was with his brother and Sam resurfaced the night she died in an apartment fire. He disappeared again after that, though he was occasionally seen by friends in various parts of the US.
He didn’t have any history of mental illness or seizures, but was probably who the girl was talking about because he was taller than the other two.
“So the cute one and the creepy one, did I mention he was creepy? He just walked around behind the tall one all glassy eyed, like he wasn’t in there at all. But they were over there before I even realized what was going on and it was just the way they were standing over and him and touching him. I was thinking ‘Damn, he’s not just gay, he’s got two hot boyfriends’. Even though the one guy was seriously creepy.”
Dylan Scotts, twenty-five, seemed to have joined up with the brothers after his grandmother died in a fire. Beyond living in Lawrence, Kansas and having lost his mother in a fire at an early age, there was no obvious connection between him and the brothers. He’d been labeled ‘shy’ by everyone they’d talked to, a direct contrast to the friendly and loud young man most of the people who’d known him in college described. He’d graduated with a Chemistry and Biology degree but had been a cook in a diner, the last thing in a long history of underachievement.
“Why would you think that?” Reid asked after a pause. “Maybe it was just basically brotherly concern.”
“Trust me, I’ve got three brothers and if one of them was touching me like they were him I’d be seriously weirded out.”
When the hell did Lex become more evil than his father?! *smacks head against nearest flat surface* I know, I know, character development and everything but...ick. I'll have more Supernatural related thoughts later but, now, since this was a useless post, an excerpt from that steadily growing series concerning Dylan Scotts. *waves absently towards the Drew Fuller Spam post*
Dr. Spencer Reid had encountered and profiled a large number of killers in his time with the BAU and was well aware of the basic types of serial killers, kidnappers, and terrorists as well as the basic course of action and traits they would follow and possess.
This had seemed straight forward at first. Three men, two brothers and the other, all hailing from Lawrence, Kansas, suspected of murder. The brothers had lost their mother to a house fire and, shortly thereafter, had begun being shunted across the country by their father and never seemed to stay in one place longer than a semester. The other came from a family with a history of mental illness, the accumulation of which was his mother going into the middle of the city and setting herself on fire while screaming how she would return and be all-powerful.
The only obvious strange thing was that one of the men was dead, killed by the police in St. Louis over a year before.
Four young women, the youngest sixteen and the oldest twenty-four, had been found nude, bound, and gagged inside of hotel rooms. The rooms themselves had symbols painted on every free surface, all seeming to originate from the Aztec or Mayan culture. All had been burned alive and were missing their hearts; how exactly that could have happened without the other people on the floor knowing was still being looked in to. The fourth one had provided a break, as their suspected killers were caught leaving.
Their dead man had been caught on tape in the elevator and hadn’t been alone; like in St. Louis he’d been joined by his younger brother but, unlike the last time, there had been another man seen around town with them. It was unclear if they were after more victims, had fled town, or were simply hiding out and waiting. The BAU had been called in after the bodies had been found and the elevator tape reviewed in hopes they’d be able to answer that question.
They’d found them with relative ease, aided by the fact they’d turned themselves in to the highway patrol and were now mere moments from being brought in and questioned. Turning themselves in was another odd thing; they seemed to be at the height of their killing spree but had simply pulled over and flagged down a police car the minute the radio began to run the warning they’d issued.
Also strange was the changing style. There were a number of murders, all female, that could be easily linked to the small group but there were three distinct types. St. Louis had involved the torture of the women and the implication of their significant others, these latest ones in New Orleans had seemed ritualistic in nature, and the two other ‘suspicious deaths’ had been burned alive in highly questionable house fires.
Elle and Morgan had speculated, based on what information they’d gathered from interviews, school records, and the elevator tape, that they were being led by the elder of the three, who seemed to have the more dominate personality. While neither of the other men was reported to be overly anti-social or submissive by friends, they had been seen hanging back and allowing the elder to handle most of their dealings.
“I wouldn’t have thought they were brothers you know.” The girl across from him said, stopping her constant gum cracking suddenly. She’d been chewing the sweet smelling pink mound since she’d come in to give her statement, concerning the three men who’d come by the gas station she’d been working the counter of sometime last night.
“Oh?” Elle said, looking up from her own notes. The girl nodded, hair as pink as her gum save the brown roots, bobbing around her face. “Why do you say that?”
“Well the one with the amazing smile came up and was talking to me about the weather or something while the other two walked around the store. He was really sweet and I was wondering if he was single, you know? Before I knew he was, like, a killer and stuff.”
Dean Winchester, twenty-seven years old, was described as talkative and charming, able to get information out of those he approached before they even realized what they were telling him. He’d dropped out of high school in his senior year, less than one credit short of his diploma, and while considered exceedingly intelligent was never known for applying himself or appearing to care. Some teachers had speculated that the nature of his mother’s death was why he seemed to have a problem getting close to people despite how easily he made friends, but he never lived in one place long enough for anyone to be sure.
“Anyway the tall one in the hoodie just…had some kind of attack. One minute he was fine and looking at twinkies with the other guy and the next he was clutching his head on the floor and twitching. I thought he was having a seizure or something. My aunt Paige sometimes has seizures, epilepsy or something, and it was like that kind of, you know?”
Sam Winchester, twenty-three, was quiet and more withdrawn than his brother but seemed to have much of his appeal because he was just as capable of getting people to talk to him with little effort. He’d gone to college and had been well on his way to a free-ride through law school until he vanished one night. His girlfriend told friends he was with his brother and Sam resurfaced the night she died in an apartment fire. He disappeared again after that, though he was occasionally seen by friends in various parts of the US.
He didn’t have any history of mental illness or seizures, but was probably who the girl was talking about because he was taller than the other two.
“So the cute one and the creepy one, did I mention he was creepy? He just walked around behind the tall one all glassy eyed, like he wasn’t in there at all. But they were over there before I even realized what was going on and it was just the way they were standing over and him and touching him. I was thinking ‘Damn, he’s not just gay, he’s got two hot boyfriends’. Even though the one guy was seriously creepy.”
Dylan Scotts, twenty-five, seemed to have joined up with the brothers after his grandmother died in a fire. Beyond living in Lawrence, Kansas and having lost his mother in a fire at an early age, there was no obvious connection between him and the brothers. He’d been labeled ‘shy’ by everyone they’d talked to, a direct contrast to the friendly and loud young man most of the people who’d known him in college described. He’d graduated with a Chemistry and Biology degree but had been a cook in a diner, the last thing in a long history of underachievement.
“Why would you think that?” Reid asked after a pause. “Maybe it was just basically brotherly concern.”
“Trust me, I’ve got three brothers and if one of them was touching me like they were him I’d be seriously weirded out.”