ELEVEN ; TO START A WAR.
(you know how i work by now. not edited. will fix soon. enjoy!)

LIKE FATHER, LIKE daughter, Kyle Masters thought, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table before him. Both so curious, both willing to risk their well-being to know everything. His gaze stayed in line with the computer screen, eyes slightly glazed as he read the email over and over again.

Three's a crowd. As for two, you'll find out.

It was best to be cryptic. It made her more involved in the game.

All was silent in the small apartment The Horsemen had rented out. Masters stilled with every occasional creak, still unable to shake the slight paranoia that had begun ten years ago. The Commission could be lurking around any corner, behind any door, awaiting the right time to make their move. The tension between the two groups was becoming more overwhelming. The relationship between The Horsemen and The Commission was like a time bomb. It sat ticking, uncertain of its limit, waiting for someone to poke at it, ultimately setting it off. Kyle Masters feared the aftermath of the boom.

A war was brewing between the groups, that much was certain. It was a war that would wage until one group was left standing, reveling in their victory as the final, remaining mob.

Kyle Masters was a strategist, and in being so, he had to be practical. Though The Horsemen were strong and clever, The Commission's team went deep. They stretched internationally, their leaders having corrupted everything from federal systems to cargo ships. Their resources and connections were something to envy. The Horsemen were struggling to keep up.

In strategy, The Horsemen had the odds stacked against them. Kyle Masters had to even out the scale. There was only one way to do this. They had to get the FBI involved.

Was it risky? Yes. Stupid? Probably. A last resort? Most certainly. But, there was nothing that The Commission feared more than getting caught. It was why they were so secretive, why nobody had heard of them. If the FBI were to get involved, it would scare off almost half of their sources. Kyle knew how the BAU worked. He knew their strengths, weaknesses and how to work around them.

They now needed to start the war. The news of Quinn Carson's faked death was the finishing touch on the plan.

The tension grows. They throw Quinn to the feds. News spreads to The Commission that she's free. Tension grows thicker as both teams try to catch her, one trying to avenge her father, the other wishing nothing more than to see her dead. The Horsemen catch Quinn Carson and her heart stops two days later. Tension grows even thicker. Surprise, Quinn's not dead. The Horsemen find out through a valuable source and begin to assemble a team. Two years later, everything begins to come together.

The Horsemen announce their return, it's known that Quinn Carson isn't dead, the tension grows thicker. You get the BAU wrapped up in the 'game', the war brews beneath you, and finally, before they know what's happening, The Commission have a name in the BAU's case file.

That's how you start a war. A long, convoluted way to start a war. But, nonetheless, a war favoring the Horsemen.

Kyle Masters laughed lowly, placing the bottle to his lips, the smooth liquor leaving an unusually sour taste in his mouth. He swallowed harshly, eyes shutting for a moment. This was going to work. It had to.

The vibration of his phone against the wood of the table made him flinch in surprise. Masters placed the bottle down and reached for the device next to him. He sat upright now, all sense of casualty gone. His eyes scanned the message, a mixture of adrenaline and relief washing over him.

They're in. Video is live.

The corners of Kyle's lips turned upward. He kicked his feet up on the table, fingers grasping the bottle of whiskey once more. The sour taste returned as he took another sip. His fingers slid around the screen, the smile turning more prominent as he sent it.

Good. Seems like everything's falling into place, boss.

-----

ON THE OTHER side of the city, the BAU's next hours were spent in a state of panic.

Elliot Higgins' laptop sat before the group, the video playing live. Each time a team member looked up, they were haunted by the frightened expressions of the children on screen, their nerves rising, knowing that at the moment, these kids were helpless.

Three issues sat before them, putting The Horsemen one step ahead, something Quinn vowed that she would never let happen. First, they had no idea where these kids were located. They guessed that they would be somewhere in the city, keeping the 'game' local. Even then, London was a big place. Second, the BAU didn't know if this video was truly live. It could have been a looped, pre-recorded video, ultimately setting a trap for the team. Third, in simplest terms, the BAU had no way of knowing the plans of The Horsemen. What did this video mean? What would it lead to? How long would this game go on for?

The BAU was completely and utterly clueless in their search for these kids, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Quinn sat with her head in her hands, attempting to pull her thoughts together. What was Masters getting at? Were the kids simply a threat, or did they have some warped significance to him?

She almost laughed. This was Kyle she was talking about. Everything had a warped signifigance.

She couldn't help but let her mind wander into territory she had stayed away from, as she began to think of The Commission and her father's involvement with the group. He couldn't have been the leader. It didn't make sense. He couldn't have kept a secret that big for that long.

As she looked at Higgins' mugshot on the television screen, she couldn't help but think of the things her dad could have been keeping from her. She wondered if she ever really knew him at all. In the ten years that had passed, what false memories had shaped in her head as she had tried to remember the man that she thought he was?

Quinn felt the sofa cushion beside her go down as someone sat. She didn't look over, eyes focused on the floor, unable to take her mind off of The Commission, and what they actually had to do with this.

"You've got your worried, panicked, I-think-I-might-be-on-to-something look on," Penelope said, a sense of fatigue in her voice. Quinn turned to her, lips quirking upward. There was a certain aura around Garcia that simply brought light into every situation, relieving the dark for a moment. "What's on your mind, Carson?"

Quinn's eyes flicked to the laptop on the table, looking wearily to Alvez and Rossi who sat around it. "It's what Higgins' brought to us," she replied. "Why bring up the war between The Horsemen and a group that the FBI has never heard of? Why now?"

Garcia bit the inside of her cheek, unable to give an answer to her friend. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't even know," she muttered, shrugging. "It's probably nothing. I'm probably overthinking everything involving my father." Quinn laughed humorlessly. "It's been a weird couple of days."

"Don't I know it," Penelope said, nudging her side softly. Quinn chuckled, bowing her head. Garcia sighed, swallowing before speaking. "But if I remember anything from two years ago it's that your thoughts are never nothing." She winced, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "Weird phrasing, but you get what I mean. Whatever's going on in that head of yours Quinn, it has some value."

Quinn smiled at her, shaking her head. She glanced toward the laptop once more, now finding that Spencer and Lewis had taken the places of Rossi and Alvez. Her mind flashed an image of the kids on screen, sending a chill down her spine. Spencer glanced up toward her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Quinn returned the action, nodding once, and quickly turned back to Penelope.

"We need to find those kids first," she stated. "We can focus on everything else after." Penelope looked as though she were about to argue, but soon shut her mouth as Quinn continued. "Have you been able to trace the video?"

The frown on Penelope's face got deeper. "No," she muttered. "Connor and I have been working so hard to hack into it, but Masters..."

Quinn sighed before finishing her thought. "He's too good."

"Unfortunately," Penelope said. There was an unmistakable tone of loathing in her voice. She didn't speak for a moment, eyes focused on the genius who stood across from them, gaze on Quinn, unfaltering. Penelope shook her head. "If we weren't in such a terrible situation, I would ask you to give me details on exactly what happened," she whispered, motioning to Spencer.

Quinn's cheeks went red, eyes widening. "Penelope, we are watching kids being held captive live on a computer screen. This is not the time and place," she said, nearly mortified. Penelope let out a huff of a laugh, keeping it quiet, not to attract attention.

Before she could apologize, Penelope felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. "It's from Connor," she said as she looked at the screen. Her eyes widened. "He thinks he may have found something."

Quinn nodded. "Go see him," she replied, watching as Jude Atlas entered the room. "Go before Atlas can ask you any questions."

Garcia nodded in agreement, sitting up from the sofa and wiping her hands on her skirt. "Will report back if we found anything significant," she told her, heels clicking as she left the room, earrings clinking together. Quinn nearly smiled at the sight.

Jude Atlas stood before the team and cleared his throat. The room went quiet, all eyes on the leader, waiting for him to talk. "I've just talked with Scotland Yard," he announced, disappointment filling his words. "And because this is now an active, kidnapping case, they're insisting that they take over."

Each person made their own sound of disbelief, the tension in the room thickening. Quinn's gaze landed on Alvez, who crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he wanted to say something, but knew that he should refrain from it. Good choice newbie, good choice.

"With all due respect, sir," Prentiss began, walking toward her boss, "this team is as qualified, if not more, than the people who want to take over."

Atlas nodded. "I'm fully aware of that," he said distastefully. "Which is exactly why I'm trying to convince them to collaborate with us on this project." He looked around the room. "The more people working this thing, the better."

Quinn couldn't help but agree. While she knew the BAU was capable to solving this on their own, she knew that Bridges' team down at Scotland Yard was talented and could help the process go quicker.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Hotch voiced.

Atlas nodded again. "Nevertheless, until the agree to let us onto the case, we're exempt from working on it."

"We can't just leave," JJ attempted to protest. "There are kids lives on the line right now. Every minute wasted is a minute that the The Horsemen could hurt them."

"I know that." Atlas' voice was calm. "But, legally, I can't let you work on this case. I'm sorry. I wish things were different at the moment."

Quinn scoffed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. Her finger found Bridges' contact, tapping upon the keyboard and drafting a rather straightforward text.

Stop being ridiculous and let us on the case. These are kids we're talking about Bridges.

She glanced up at her team, surprised to find that Atlas had left the room. "I just texted Bridges. Hopefully I can talk some sense into him."

His response was almost instantaneous. Quinn slid her finger to open the message.

Not my call, Croft. I'm trying my hardest to make it work. They think that they'll have a decision by tomorrow.

"Tomorrow?" Prentiss asked, astounded. "Why so long?"

"Who knows what goes on over there," Quinn muttered scornfully. "I mean, why would you want to wait this out? These are kids lives we're putting at stake. Why can't they see that?"

Nobody had an answer. Quinn felt eyes on her. She turned toward Atlas, pursing her lips as he shrugged at her. "It's unprofessional," he replied.

Quinn furrowed her brow, but quickly focused on Spencer who spoke in an unusually loud voice. "So we're just supposed to go back to our hotel and wait until we're called in?" he asked. "There are forty-three thousand, two hundred seconds in twelve hours and it takes half a second to pull a trigger. What if we're too late?"

Atlas sighed. "Look, I can't control this. I'm just as angry as you all are about this. But, all I can tell you is that you need to leave until we are called back in."

And with that, Atlas grasped his phone in his hand, pressed it to his ear and walked out of the room.

-----

"HOW COULD THEY do that?" Quinn asked Spencer, arms crossed over her chest as they stood in her kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. "They're wasting time."

The genius shrugged, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. "Unfortunately, Atlas had a point. We can't do anything about it. It's out of our control."

"It was in our control two hours ago," Quinn countered, shaking her head. She grabbed two mugs from her shelf.

"Is he always like that?"

"What? Blunt, scary and possibly soulless?" Spencer chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say, 'that's one way too put it'. "Most of the time. He's a good guy though. "Stressed all the time, but he knows what he's doing."

Spencer nodded. The two were quiet for a moment, only the sound of dripping coffee filling the room. Quinn could feel that he wanted to say something, so she waited.

"What were you talking with Garcia about?" he asked, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Quinn looked away. "Nothing," she answered. Spencer looked at her blankly, silently calling her bluff. She shook her head. "It's stupid."

"I highly doubt that."

She almost smiled. "It was just about my dad," she admitted. Spencer suddenly straightened up, moving slightly closer to her. This was one of the first times that she was openly talking about her father with him, when she wasn't in an interrogation room. "Higgins said some things when we had our face-to-face. It just got me thinking."

"About what?" he asked.

"About how much I truly knew him," she responded. "Spencer, he was operating a powerful underground mob without attracting any attention to himself. He killed people. My dad." She shook her head once more, shaking away the thoughts. "Anyway. Higgins mentioning it just got me curious. Why talk about it now? I mean, this is a war that has been brewing for years. Why make it significant now?"

Spencer was quiet for a moment. "Do you think that they're about to start it?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "And that's what frustrates me. I don't know what they're getting at." She ran a hand down her face. "There's too much going on."

She heard Spencer before walking over toward her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, letting her lean into him, a small smile appearing as her arms fell around his waist. "Whatever it is," he began, voice soft, "we're going to figure it out. Once Scotland Yard realizes their mistake, we'll find the kids and begin on The Horsemen versus The Commission."

Quinn nodded, knowing that not only was he trying to assure her, he was attempting to calm himself. She knew how cases involving children got to him. "I know," she said, squeezing his waist before releasing him.

"I still find it strange that The Commission was able to stay under all radars," he mused, face scrunched slightly. Quinn's lips quirked upward at his expression. "I mean, how would they do that? Are they really that good?"

Quinn shrugged, pouring the now finished coffee into the two mugs. "I guess so," she said. "Higgins didn't exactly give me the breakdown of their team."

Spencer nodded, accepting the mug from Quinn. "Do you want to know something else that struck me as strange?"

She quirked a brow. "What?"

"This," he began, reaching behind him and toward a table, "was left on your doorstep." He held a single white rose in his hand, a truly perplexed look on his face.

Quinn's blood went cold. Her eyes widened, entire body on edge. "W-Where did you get that?"

Spencer turned to her, confused by her sudden panic. "Outside your door," he repeated. "It was just laying there when I came over."

Quinn felt as though she couldn't breathe. Her lips parted, walking toward Spencer to take the flower from him. The color in her face matched that of the rose. "It was just... there?"

The doctor nodded, unnerved as he watched her. "Quinn?" he asked. "What does this mean to you?"

She couldn't take her eyes off the flower. Her finger traced over the only thorn on the stem. "Before I left for college, whenever my dad went away, he'd bring me back the same thing every time," she said, voice shaking.

As Spencer put two and two together, his posture became stiff. He swallowed harshly. "You're sure?"

"He would bring me a white rose every time. It was a tradition." Quinn gripped the stem tighter, hands trembling. "One, single, long-stemmed white rose."

As she stared at the flower, her mind began to spiral into thoughts. Who had delivered it? Who would know about their tradition?

Quinn wasn't sure what this meant, and she didn't know if she was willing to find out.

-----

IM BACK AFTER MY HIATUS HELLO EVERYONE I MISSED YOU ALL

this chapter threw a lot at you guys, but like the beginning episode of a season, all these loose ends will be answered throughout this part 2. hope you guys stay for the ride.

anyway, i'm unbelievably tired, hope you enjoyed! love you all tons!
-mags