For Laughs - Batman/Criminal Minds - Chapter 5 - 6/17
Title: For Laughs
Fandom: Batman (Nolan universe, mostly)/Criminal Minds
Links: Prologue + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4
Rating: T (overall), but ventures into M
Warnings: Joker-level violence, serial killer activities
Summary: If the BAU wants to catch the Joker, they'll need to profile the Batman. But will all of the team survive to close the case? Gen fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters in the franchise, nor do I own the television show Criminal Minds. Written for fun and sick kicks, not profit.
Chapter Note: The reference to Vincent Perotta is from Season 1, Episode 8 "Natural Born Killer" in which a serial killer worked for the mafia as a hitman/torturer.
Chapter 5
The Joker's Wild
The hotel had been evacuated, yet the building seemed as busy as a bee hive. Police officers weaved in and out of rooms. Their voices, the groans and whines of their dogs, the hum of radios all became one constant, high-pitched buzz. Reid was tempted to cover his ears, block himself from it. Instead, he simply leaned his back against the corridor's ivory-painted wall and closed his eyes, feeling the relaxing pull of sleep.
"Spence, are you okay?"
Reid blinked to awareness, standing straight. J.J.'s concerned blue eyes stared up at him. "Hey, J.J. I'm fine, just a little tired."
J.J. smiled softly. "I think most of us are running on adrenaline right now."
"I work better on coffee," Reid returned. "Did they find writing in any of the other room?"
She shook her head, but quickly touched his arm to stop whatever he was about to say. "It doesn't mean anything, Spence. He couldn't have possibly of known who was staying in which room."
Her words didn't comfort him, but he nodded, pretending they meant something.
Reid's room hadn't been the only one covered in playing cards. Each room reserved for the FBI was floored with two dimensional jokers, the lights blown. And each room was empty. No mad men hung to the shadows, no planted bombs under the beds, no poison gas in the vents, no acid in their mini-bars. The rooms were clean. Except for one.
J.J. was adjacent to Gideon. She hadn't entered the room, but the team found the message as soon as the bomb squad had cleared the area. Only her room had a working light, in the bathroom. The bathroom mirror of the suite was wide, stretching out above the double sinks, and written in thick blood letters were the words "Read 'em and Weep."
A smiling face with an x for each eye finished the subtle threat.
"Anything on the cards yet?" Reid asked.
J.J. shook her head. "Nothing yet. No substances on them. They appear to be factory new from varying brands, probably opened right before they were deposited. No news on the blood on the mirror yet, either. Lab is putting a rush on it."
"Is Morgan still with the surveillance?"
"Yeah." J.J. sighed. "He's went over the video half a dozen times, but there's nothing really there. He had it sent to Garcia, nevertheless."
Reid frowned. The security video showed a "maid" approaching the rooms a few hours before the team had checked in. The real maid, though, was dead long before that, her body found in an industrial washer in the basement.
"Does it bother you, J.J.?" Reid realized his voice had lowered when an officer walked too close. He hunched forward, arms crossed protectively over his chest.
"Which part?" J.J. asked.
"That he could have…" Reid chewed his lip. "That, if he'd wanted to, he could have killed one of us. All of us. We know what he's capable of, J.J."
J.J. opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to reply. "He's a terrorist, Spence," she finally replied. "He inflicts terror."
Reid knew that was true. He also knew there must be something more to the Joker's behavior. The Joker wanted the F.B.I here. And he wanted to send them a message: they weren't safe. But perhaps that wasn't the whole message, perhaps he simply wished to add 'you were supposed to be doing a job. Not sleeping in an expensive hotel.'
Maybe that last part was just in his own mind. Reid wasn't sure. Sleeplessness was not a profiler's best friend.
J.J.'s phone ringed. She pulled out her cell, mouthing, "Commissioner Gordon," before stepping away in search of a quiet spot. Gordon had spent a few hours at the scene before heading home with the promise of a phone call in the morning. Which meant the sun was rising. Reid groaned. No wonder he was so tired.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, He straightened his back, feeling the muscles stretch, and stepped further down the hallway, towards the elevator. On the ground floor, the hotel was just as busy, the workers finally being allowed to re-enter the building, though most of the hotel patrons had since relocated. Reid took a deep breath, seeking out the scent of coffee.
"Excuse me?"
Reid recognized the voice and turned to see Bruce Wayne simultaneously brushing off the hotel manager and a young officer. Bruce caught the agent's eye and silently asked for aid.
Reid cleared his throat, tapping the cop on the arm. "It's okay. He's the owner of the hotel."
Bruce slipped past the officer, grabbing Reid's hand for a short shake. "Good, you remembered me."
Reid almost laughed at the statement. "Hard to forget."
Bruce shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name last night."
"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." Reid tilted his head, somehow surprised by the raised brow on Bruce's face. It was a false expression. As if the other man was faking disbelief at hearing the title. It wouldn't really surprise Reid if Bruce had already known his name. Someone with that much money and a Wayne family's pull was bound to be privy to more knowledge than the media. "Is there a reason why you're here, Mr. Wayne?"
"I was out most of the night, didn't hear the news until the morning. Is everyone on your team alright, Dr. Reid? Did the Joker hurt anyone?"
Bruce's concern was genuine. That did surprise Reid slightly. The man's personality seemed to indicate an over abundant sense of self, very direct narcissism. Reid couldn't quite comprehend why someone like Bruce Wayne would show up in person to check on his hotel instead of leaving the job to his lessers. Perhaps there was more to him than the rich, somewhat drunk behavior he'd displayed earlier, the young agent reasoned.
Reid bit his lip, fairly certain he shouldn't release the information. Still, there was some nudging sense of trustworthiness in Bruce's eyes. And most of the information had already been released to the media. "The team's unharmed, however, I'm afraid to tell you that one of your maids was murdered late yesterday. A Lisa Sanchez."
Bruce shook his head, his voice lower when he replied, "I didn't know her." His frowned deepened. "I heard there were cards left in your rooms…But the Joker didn't leave anything else? Seems strange…"
Reid nodded in agreement, but the words left behind on J.J.'s mirror ran through his head. It must have shown on his face, because Bruce was looking at him with a raised brow.
"Was there something else?"
Spencer tucked his hands into his pockets. "Nothing I can discuss at the moment."
Bruce nodded slowly, and dropped the subject.
Reid was already looking over the man's shoulder. The elevator doors had opened to show the rest of his team. Hotch's gaze was seeking him out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but I have to go," Reid muttered, and all but ran toward his teammates. "We're leaving?"
"To the precinct," Hotch replied. His frown deepened when he spotted an alert Bruce Wayne standing across the lobby. Aaron dropped whatever comment lingered with the eye contact and turned his attention back to Reid. "Commissioner Gordon was contacted by the captain of homicide earlier this morning. I'm afraid Gotham City has more than the Joker to contend with. Two women have been found dead within twenty-four hours of each other. Looks to be the same weapon used, their bodies posed in similar methods. There's little doubt that it's the work of the same killer."
"The beginning of a possible spree?" Reid asked, looking doubtful.
Gideon pushed forward. "That's what we need to find out."
The conference room of the Major Crimes Unit was quiet all but a minute after Agent Morgan had answered his cell phone with a wince and a quick explanation of the early morning's events. The voice across the speaker phone was shrill, past the point of panic, and somewhat peeved. "So an insane clown threatens all of my kittens with game night and no one bothers to call me until five hours later?"
While most of the team was left baffled that they had been called domesticated pets, Reid was simply chewing his jaw. Unable to hold it in, he blurted, "Actually, it's been closer to seven hours since the initial discovery. If we then take into account the time of death for Lisa Sanchez and the…"
Morgan's glare should have been enough to stop Reid. It was. Spencer hunched over the table he was currently sitting on and began to dig through the evidence box he'd requested. It was entirely full of the left behind playing cards in marked evidence bags. Reid was scanning their labels, dividing them by room. What he was looking for, the rest of the team couldn't be certain.
Garcia released a shallow breath across the phone. "Okay," she said, with a forced calm to her tone, "next time you seen anything remotely scary and circus themed, please give me a call. Fear of clowns or not, I will be up there in a heartbeat."
"Will do, baby girl," Morgan said. Not for the first time in his life, he was left happy that the locals were not in the room for one of his favorite analyst's outbursts. "Did you get anything off those files Detective Stephens faxed you?"
"Yes, I did. Which is the unfortunate part," Garcia answered. The sound of typing echoed through the phone before her voice returned. "I'm sending the results your way. Detective Stephens asked me to look into connections between the two women. Zip was found, btw. However, I took the liberty of checking for similar murders in Gotham's oh-so-very-long list of unsolved homicide cases."
"You found something, I assume," Hotch said.
"You bet your favorite tie I did." Garcia didn't sound pleased with the information. "At first I looked for just women, found a few cases of women with records for solicitation found posed on their favorite streets after having their throats cut. There were five total, spanning across a decade. I thought that was a little spaced out, so I looked further, expanded the age range and the gender. I found a total of eighteen murders that could be linked to Gotham and surrounding suburbs. The odd part is that most of these cases were thought to be related to paid hits. As in organized crime, kiddies."
Hotch nodded to the rest of the team, feeling their building tension. "Thanks, Garcia. Could you see if any of the unsolved cases brought in the same suspects?"
"On it, my liege, but I can tell you, it's going to be a long list," Garcia replied. "Looks like most of the unsolved murders were linked to big time boss Carmine Falcone, current resident of Arkham Asylum."
"Lovely," Morgan muttered.
"You're telling me, my caramel knight," Garcia chirped.
"Get back to us as soon as possible," Hotch ended, tapping the phone with one finger. He looked up at the team. "We need to start a new board with Garcia's info. And, J.J., get a handle on the media. We don't want them aware of the previous murders yet, and we certainly don't want them associating the Joker with this new serial killer. The last thing we need is this city in a greater panic."
J.J. nodded, quickly stepping out into the busy corridor, her phone in hand.
"What if Garcia's right and these mob hits are related to the murders over the past day?" Prentiss asked.
Reid played with his hands, nervous energy leaving him bouncing on his toes. "Out of the more recent unsubs, Vincent Perotta comes to mind. A natural born killer who worked as a professional hit man for organized crime. It was the perfect profession. There's a possibility that our current unsub is, was, in a similar situation before Falcone's arrest."
It came to no surprise to the team that Reid was privy to information on the arrest of a mob boss several states away from Virginia. "The confusing part is, if that were the case," Reid added, "what has the unsub been doing since Falcone's apprehension and why has he advanced to two murders within a twenty-four hour span?"
Gideon rested his chin on his fist. "If he's anything like Perotta, he wouldn't have stopped. However, as a professional, he would have known to get out of dodge. We need to have Garcia check surrounding states for similar cases."
Hotch was silent a moment before crossing his arms. "We can't be certain that the Joker and the new unsub are linked. Officially, we were called in to deal with the Joker, so we need to concentrate on his case."
Morgan moved forward. "Hotch, this unsub is spiraling…"
"Um."
Morgan turned at the sound, seeing an apprehensive Reid digging through the cards. Each were individually bagged, but Reid tore through the tape as if it were meaningless. "Um, guys?" he repeated. "Hold that thought."
"What is it, Reid?" Hotch asked.
"The light. It's brighter in here," Reid muttered. He lifted the card up, squinting as he held it diagonally near the closest lamp, studying the reflection across the blue patterned backing of the playing card. He tilted it from side to side before reaching out with his free hand and snapping his fingers for attention. "Paper! Pencil!"
Emily scrambled for a thin sheet and a sharpened 2.
Reid sat the card on the table top, placing the sheet over it. He lightly ran the pencil over the surface and stared dumbly at the scribbled image left behind. "Do you see that?" he asked Emily, the closest.
Prentiss bent over his shoulder. "Are those letters? We should send it to a lab for a clearer image. A tech should be able to raise the indentation."
Morgan slid around her. "First one looks like the letter 'Z'."
Reid, mouth hanging wide, picked up the paper, staring at it intensely. "I know this," he whispered. "I know this name…" Excited, he nearly knocked Prentiss over in his hast to reach the door. "We need to check the info from Garcia," he quickly explained. "Look for the name 'Zsasz'. I think there's a connection."
"Reid, slow down," Hotch commanded. "Explain."
Reid came to stop before he left the conference room. "Do you think it's a coincidence that the Joker was in that church yesterday while our second unsub was murdering a woman? Or that the unsub was killing a second woman while the Joker was planting harmless cards in our rooms?" He flipped the card over his fingers with the ease of a trained magician. "There's a clue here."
And he disappeared out the door.
READ CHAPTER 6