the right choice ~ reid

[DEREK MORGAN]

Robert Kiyosaki once said "A game is like a mirror that allows you to look at yourself."

---

"We know everything this guy isn't and none of what he is." A simple twelve words effectively summed up what Reid had been rambling about the whole ride to the hotel. Morgan gave him a knowing -and much less than pleased about what he knew- look as he pulled the keys and closed the door with a little more force than necessary. The team had split up to go look at the newest sites where the victims had been found and while they were there the local PD called with another tip. He and Reid took it since they were the closest. Last message he got checking in was from Prentiss saying they were all back and going to bed. It was almost midnight then. He didn't even want to know what time it was now.

He pulled open the glass doors and waited for Reid to catch up. Morgan knew the younger agent well enough to know he was thinking hard about something, and whatever it was, it was going to wait until morning. With a laugh he put an arm around Reid's shoulders and ushered him inside. "C'mon Kid, its way past your bed time." Undoubtedly Hotch would be on their case in the morning. It didn't take a genius to figure there was something wrong with when you had to be reminded to add some coffee to your sugar. "Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid." He walked up to the desk and gave a little smirk to the woman working night shift. Check in would have ended hours ago, but a little charm and an FBI badge could go a long way. Wouldn't he know it. Smiling at him, she turned around and handed him two sets of keys. "Tenth floor. Rooms 1005 and 1006." Shaking his head a little -Hotch would get them rooms on the tenth floor- he tossed Reid a key and said thanks to the young lady.

Morgan glanced at the stairwell as they walked past it. After the plane ride and the investigation, ten flights without the motivation of a trigger happy unsub and hostage on the other send just didn't seem worth it. Before the elevator doors could close, another man hurried in. Business suit, brief case, a breathy "Thanks". Morgan just nodded and pushed ten. The man pushed two. After pushing the floor his hand went behind his back but Morgan didn't think much of it. He had his hands behind him too, drumming on the elevator bar. It gave an obnoxious ding as it started the ascent.

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[SPENCER REID]

Spencer spent the entire ride to the hotel overviewing all the information given to them by the Colorado Springs Police Department. He rapped up his lecture with a statistic of crimes in Colorado, “Out of all 7000 reported crimes committed in Colorado each year, only about thirty deal with abductions. In the past five years, only a few have resulted in the death of the victim. A crime like this is new to the Colorado area.” He skimmed through the couple of pages on the recovery sites of the victims. Always found in twos, one would have traces of a fatal injection while the other would have appeared to be killed through physical means. The unsub showed no care in how the victims were dumped. The county police assume that the victims were simply pushed out of a vehicle onto the side of the road. Being in Colorado, there was never much traffic at night making it easy to get rid of bodies without being detected. There is no clear reasoning on why the unsub killed each victim differently. Although each victim in the pair had close relationships with each other, the pairs had no connections traceable. Without seeing the dump sites in person, there would be no way of profiling this incognito unsub.

With the help of Morgan, Spencer was guided into the lobby of Crowne Plaza Hotel. It was as if Morgan thought that Spencer couldn’t manage his away around because he was lead to the front desk and spoken for by Morgan. Having other things to worry about, he began forming a profile for his unsub in his head. “I wish I had a cup of coffee with a few cubes of sugar; then I would be able to organize my thoughts.” He froze at the sight of the elevator doors, because behind those walls of steel awaited a death contraption that has been taking innocent lives for years. The doors slowly opened and without a moment’s hesitation, Morgan ‘guided’ Spencer in followed by a man with his head down. If Spencer weren’t so tired, he probably would have been a little suspicious of the man. He had many little ticks that would point to a guilty soul.

With a jerk, the elevator went into action. The elevator reached floor three, and the mysterious man stepped of the elevator. Once the doors were shut, the elevator resumed motion and a thin layer of gas appeared over their heads. “Please tell me that elevators always emit strange chemicals on the roof?” Panicing, Spencer began to scan the elevator for an escape door. Unfortunately, there was none. He jammed the ‘Emergency Stop’ buttoned due to a random impulse. Noticing how that only made matters worse, he turned to Morgan looking for a little bit of reassurance.

[DEREK MORGAN]

"Yeah, I gotcha. This isn't something that happens every day." All they had in this case so far was the common denominator in victimology. The ages, relationships, professions, everything varried, but there was a signifigance to the pairs that they'd figured out as soon as they started looking into them. Because there was no reason for any of the victims to know each other, the unsub was likely stalking them, picking them out of a crowd. Where? When? They had no idea. One set of bodies was found before a missing person's report could go out. The other was killed two weeks after the case was declaired cold. Varied behavior in kidnappers was about as rare as this particular crime hapening where it did, so Derek could only assume there was something besides the killers psycology playing into the longevity of the victims.

Of course, Morgan wasn't surprised Reid was already beating himself up over their lack of results. Cases don't get solved over night. They learned that early on. But if there was anyone who didn't get the idea of not taking their work home.. yeah yeah, he knew it wasn't really an option for them. "We'll figure it out." Oh he didn't have the slightest doubt of that. He raised an eyebrow at Reid's reaction to the elevator before they stepped inside. Again he went to speak as soon as the third man exited the elevator but but his eyes trailed up with Reid's comment.

The gas was faint, like a morning dew, but it spread quickly enough that Morgan couldn't see where it was coming from. "Shit! Reid, cover your mouth!" he was already compensating for the other's panic, not that he had a clear plan himself. He was just a moment too late to keep Reid from pressing the stop button. In retaliation he quickly pushed ten, followed by 4, and almost every other number. "Dammit. Move." Finally the elevator lurched up. He fell back slightly against the railing in surprise, unsteady already as the chemicals in the air took up most of what they could breathe. His vision was limited to just the basic shapes of Reid and the door, breathing getting slower, and he only vaguely able to piece together that contacting one of the others would have been a good idea. Of course executing that thought was a whole nother story. When the doors opened they stumbled into the hallway, but the damage was done. Morgan tried to have some control over being brought to the ground, but within a few moments, everything had gone black.

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[SPENCER REID]

The mistake was committed, but there was no time to mourn over what he had done wrong. The elevator wasn’t going anywhere until someone from the outside got help. “Stop that! Repetitively pushing the buttons is only going to make this situation worse. Stop pressing the buttons until you do…”

[/b] The elevator surprisingly lurked back into action throwing Reid against the wall closest to him. As the gas thickened in the air above them, Reid kneeled down to the floor with his arm covering over his mouth. The gas filled into Spencer’s lungs resulting in severe coughing. When the doors to the elevator opened, his vision had already begun to alter. He could slightly make out Morgan’s form next to him and all the walls surrounding him. Spencer was left with no time to think, so by following his instincts, he crawled past the opening of the elevator. Outside, he saw the silhouette of a motionless man. “Help, please! The elevator had been sabotaged. Please, we need medical…”[/b] Spencer’s coughing overtook his power to speak. He rolled over onto his back attempting to mutter a few words, “Why won’t you help…”[/b] After that, all Spencer could see was the darkness of his eyelids.

To Spencer, it seemed liked he had been out cold for no more than an hour. He regained his consciousness slowly, but that didn’t stop him from assessing the situation. Where he sat, he could tell that they were in an average van, probably an older model due to the lack of smooth driving. Morgan laid next to him still asleep from the poison. If he wanted, he could bang on the doors and try to make as much noise as possible. He knew if he did, the results would be unbearable. “Morgan, Morgan? Morgan get up!”[/b] All he could do was whisper out of fear that the driver might hear him. Morgan didn’t respond but the driver made it clear that he heard him. A small tube coming out of the wall opposite of the doors began releasing a gas that appeared to be the same substance as the one in the elevator. It wasn’t long before Spencer was coughing uncontrollably. He tried to maintain his consciousness but the chemical was too strong. If they were going to be killed quickly, the unsub would have done it by now. There is no way of knowing what this person has planned for them.[/size][/blockquote]

[DEREK MORGAN]

When Morgan came to again he was in a dark room. No binding, no injuries, the pressure in his chest from the gas before had lifted. His jacket had been removed, as well his gun, phone, and wallet. "Reid!" he hissed sharply, looking around. It had only taken him a second to realize that the younger agent wasn't there with him. Lights in the room began to turn on one by one as if on cue, unveiling in front of him a large structure that vaguely resembled a training course. The room was obviously large -that automatically ruled out most locations- but there was no way around the obstacles, and no clear end either. Before he could grab hold of the entrance, the static of a radio trying to find signal filled the room.

"Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid, it's a pleasure to welcome you into my arena. A pleasure.. really. It seems you're the best of the best. We're going to play a game now. A game of choices. Both of you are in separate rooms. Not to worry, nobody's hurt. Both rooms have a microphone that connects to this intercom which will be turned on when I'm finished explaining the rules. Spencer, you have a camera as well. You see, one of you has been put in a position where you'll need to fight for your survival. The other is in no physical danger, but will have to give directions based on clues I give them when they answer my questions. Both of you will be required to choose wisely. If you succeed at a team, you'll be rewarded for your efforts. However, if you fail, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

Morgan was tempted to slam his fist into the wall in front of him. The pieces had all fallen into place before the man was three sentences into his direction. The duel kidnappings, strange means of death. This was their unsub. Now that he knew the game, the pairing made even more sense. One who provided an intellectual challenge, another who could hold up through physical torture. The fact that he chose the two of them, two FBI agents, meant he was getting cocky. Which of the two gave the unsub more pleasure he didn't know yet. But he knew they'd be finding out soon enough.

---

Meanwhile, in Spencer's room, a small TV on a table in front of his chair turned on, giving him a side view of the obstacle course. In only his room, the unsub's radio voice projected. Neither had posed a question. That meant it was time to begin. "Spencer, are you ready for the first question?"

[SPENCER REID]

Spence awoke in a tightly spaced room with nothing but the television in front of him and the chair he was currently resting upon. There appeared to be no injuries on Spence’s body and no restraints keeping him on his chair. Only two doors were visible in the room; one across from the other and both made of pure steel. Making his first unanticipated move, Spence quickly sprang up from his chair and ran to the closest door. Neither one of the doors were unlocked leaving Spence helpless, until he heard the faint sound of Derek’s voice shouting his name. Even though that did not help Spence’s current situation, it gave him the reassurance he needed to struggle through whatever this unsub had in store.

Not a moment later, the television came to life showing probably a live feed of the room Derek was currently in. What he saw practically scared him for life, even if it might not be that much longer. Derek only had visual of the front of the obstacle course but what lies beyond is a guaranteed death trap. Next to the television was what looked like an intercom microphone. He tried speaking into hoping that Derek would show some sign of a reaction, “Derek? Derek! If you can…”

[/b] Something cut off Spence’s video feed leaving Derek hanging there wondering what happened. A voice replaced Spencer’s on the intercom giving a few instructions on what they were to do. It sounded simple enough; after all, Spencer is a ‘genius’, and Derek is strong athletically.

If it weren’t so obvious that there was no way out of this situation, Spence would probably be attempting to find a way out. Derek is the only thing keeping him calm because the lives of both of them rest in his hands. When Spencer was asked if he was ready, he replied very clearly, “Yes.”[/b] He will not give the unsub anything more than what he needs to. The unsub feeds off of their pain and suffering so he will do all he can to hide his emotions. Gulping down all the fear he had, he repeated, “Yes, I am ready.”[/b][/blockquote][/size]

[DEREK MORGAN]

"Good, good." There was a slight pause before the voice continued. "As I said before, this is a game of choices, not a game of chance. I like to start off with easier questions and we can work our way up, together. I've modified the game slightly from how I usually play it, because I believe what most people would consider a challenge you'd be rather comfortable with, Doctor Reid. And a simple game very quickly bores it's players. I'm only going to repeat the question once. You can not ask any questions on my question, nor can you receive outside hints. Derek can't hear you, so don't attempt to communicate with him until I give you permission. The amount of time I give you varies based on the difficulty of the question. You may only have one answer, and it will be the first thing you say aloud. Now that you know the rules, we're going to begin."

---

The voice only rang into Spencer's small room. Morgan was left looking for the speaker as Reid's voice cut off. Save his expression he made no protest, merely waiting impatiently in front of the course. A small sign flashed 'do not enter', and he was more than tempted not to listen. He could only guess that Reid was being given a question right now. He didn't doubt his friend's genius in the least (he wasn't willing to admit it, but he certain didn't doubt it) but he had no clue what kind of situation the other man was in, or how the unsub was twisting words to pressure him. Morgan was someone who took action, on his own, as much as possible. The waiting was unnerving. And he wasn't planning on making a habit out of it.

---

"I like history, Spencer. Do you? I find they make for fascinating trivia. As you know, President Clinton is listed as our 41st president, however, only 40 men had held the office through the time if his presidency. Why is that?"

[SPENCER REID]

As the voice laid out the rules of the game, Reid’s mind couldn’t help but start to worry about Morgan’s and his own safety. What were the chances the two would make it out of this hell alive? For once, Spencer did not have a probable statistic. As the unsub’s lecture grew closer to an end, Reid’s heart beat began to speed up. There was no telling what type of trivia this man had in store for Spencer. There was also no telling how fair this man was willing to play. If the man’s objective was to mess with Reid’s mind, he has surely already won. Anxiety crept through his body while the unsub read off his first question.

Relief rushed through Spencer’s body. There was no doubt in his mind that he would answer this question incorrectly. After a moment’s hesitation, Spencer spoke aloud, “The answer is quite simple, actually. Grover Cleveland was not only our 22nd president, but also our 24th president. This is the reasoning behind there only being forty presidents in office before Clinton.”

[/b] The room remained silent… There was no congratulation speech to honor his victory. Instead, there was movement on the television. Morgan was most likely being given instructions on how to make it through the course alive. It was only a matter of time before Reid was to be faced with his next question.[/blockquote][/size]