два. the perfect storm
" he wasn't going to win "

SITTING ON THE RUMBLING plane, Valentizina flicked through the multiple files on the case, eyes scanning every word carefully. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the stare of Hotch yet she decided to ignore it, knowing that it would be best not to speak up either way. He would just have to deal with the fact that she came along. She was just doing her job. Gideon felt the tension between the two, shaking his head and continuing to read the newspaper.

"P.D just located Laura Clemensen's body."

Valentine looked towards the laptop that revealed a colourful blonde sat, looking through the camera at them. As the call connected, the redhead, who had cut her hair before the flight (implying a new start), quirked her brow, tilting her head as she tried to get a better look without showing herself to Penelope Garcia.

"Some bikers found her under a bridge."

The images of Laura that Penelope had sent immediately came up on screen. She was a fragile, blonde girl. Her pale skin was covered in dirt, mouth hanging open, revealing her dry lips. Her face had blood oozing down from her forehead. Yet it was her body that was placed in an odd, embarrassing manner that interested Valentine. Laura was as dead as they came and Valentizina knew it. The strawberry-blonde licked her teeth, trying to make sense of it all.

"They never hide them. They're always easy to find," Hotchner thought aloud.

"Laura Clemensen wasn't missing for more than a week," Spencer muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "The time spent torturing's getting shorter."

"Has her mother been notified?" Derek asked, Penelope's face returning on screen with with a warm cup of coffee.

"No. Not yet."

"We can cover more ground if we split up. Morgan and I'll meet local P," Gideon spoke up, not bothering to glance up at anyone from the newspaper in his hands.

"Greenaway," Aaron nodded towards the brunette, "How about we go and speak to Laura's mother?"

"And I'll start with the victimology, maybe find the reason why these women were targeted," Spencer finished.

Valentine leant back in her seat, crossing her arms and raising both her brows at Hotchner. Puzzled, he knew that he would have to assign her a job.

"Sorry, am I a federal agent on field or an alien from outer space? Actually don't answer, I'm better than all of you. I'll assign myself. I'm going with Derek and Gideon."

•*•*•

The wind rustled the delicate leaves, sending them to spiral down towards the forest floor. The cold nipped at Valentine's pale skin, yet the feeling was left ignored. And chills ran down her skin, yet not so much because of the breeze. Yet because of the body that laid dead on the ground of the woods, bringing back nothing but bad memories into her mind. But pushing the thoughts aside, she breathed in the some-what fresh air around her when she opened the car door, her heels clicking against the ground. She looked towards Derek who already stood beside the vehicle, awaiting for the redhead to step out.

Standing up, she closed the door behind her, beginning to walk beside Morgan and Gideon (who joined them). The bright yellow tape sectioning off the area was ignored by the agents as they ducked under, grabbing the attention of the detective who stood talking to a police officer. He turned around, his brows immediately relaxing from being raised, awaiting for them to make their way closer to him. Her hand slipped in her pocket, pulling out her badge as she flashed it towards the detective, coming to a halt.

"Agent Alianovna. This is Agent Morgan and Agent Gideon, from the FBI."

Her eyes looked over the bridge towards the body almost under the bridge. It was just like in the pictures. Pale. Lifeless. Bloody. Bruised. And in a nutshell, it was far worse than the pictures. Therefore, Valentizina wasted no time, quickly sliding the badge back in the pockets of her trousers. She walked past the detective, down towards the small flight of steps leading to the body.

"Detective Robert Portillo," he introduced himself, looking behind him at the fiery redhead, raising his brows at her quick introduction. Yet his attention returned back to Gideon, as Morgan was quick to follow Valentine.

She slipped on a pair of blue rubber gloves that were offered to her by a near-by paramedic, looking down at the body while listening into the conversation. She quickly glanced at Derek who joined her side, both of them kneeling down, inspecting Laura's body.

"This is the fifth girl on my watch in the past two years, and we still don't have a viable suspect," Portillo sighed.

"We think you're looking for two men," Derek nodded, his head flying up to the men standing above them. Portillo tilted his head in question. They observed the two agents up from the small bridge they were standing upon and noticed the way the woman was observing the wounds carefully.

"Really? Based upon what evidence?" the detective asked. His eyes flickered from all the FBI agents in hopes that one would give him the answer he was craving for. And Gideon was the one to do so.

Valentine delicately placed her finger upon Laura's almost blue face, moving it carefully and closely side to side to inspect the injuries, furrowing her brows. The bruising was severe. Rather old. Torture had went on for several days, she had guessed. The green, yellow and red bruising was rather bright and filled up all of her neck, showing the brutality of the attack...

"Well, given the level of sadistic torture and desire to document their crimes, we're confident this was done by a killing team."

"She's got deep lacerations on her neck, chest, and thighs," Valentizina spoke up, looking up at the two men standing, watching her and Derek, "From the color of the bruising, torture went on for several days. CSI believes the cause of death was ligature strangulation, and it is consistent with the other victims."

Gideon looked down in slight discomfort, but sighed and looked back up at detective Portillo, informing the detective, "In the video, she's wearing a pearl ring on her left hand."

"No other evidence has turned up. They've combed the area, quarter-mile radius," detective confirmed, Derek and Valentine looking at each other in confusion before back at Gideon.

"Why would they need more trophies, Gideon?" Derek puzzled.

"Maybe passed it along as a gift."

"Like the green river killer?"

"Yeah," Gideon nodded, noticing Detective Portillo's confusion. That's why Gideon's head turned around and faced the man beside him, beginning to explain what he did, "He'd leave jewelry for his female coworkers and then become aroused when he saw them wear it."

"After everything they do to these girls, why do they leave'em in these horrible positions? Haven't they suffered enough?"

"Apparently not."

"This is the ultimate degradation to the victim and her family," Derek stated.

"Shock value for whoever finds them," Gideon added on, "And it sends a message to the police. Look what we can do. You can't stop us."

Gideon and Portillo looked down once more, yet turned on their heels, deciding to walk away before either of them threw up at the sight of the body. On the other hand, Valentizina and Derek remained composed. The redhead drew her finger away from Laura's cheek, instead standing up and straightening herself up. Morgan turned to face one of the officers, beginning to instruct them in what to do next, leaving Valentizina to look down at the body one last time, slipping off the gloves.

And though she didn't believe in God, she said a damn prayer that the images of the past would never return back to her mind. But she knew that the prayer would never be answered.

It would be impossible to ignore the images burnt within her brain. She'd just have to learn to get over it.

•*•*•*•

Valentizina sat in the midst of her colleagues. The discussion of new information that the agents had found out ran along the table, and often jumped from person to person. Yet in the end, they had all came to the same conclusion. Her fingers wrapped around the take-out coffee cup, bringing it up to her pink, plump lips. Her eyes ran along the words of what she had been writing down quickly, making sure she understood everything they had so far to the bone. Yet her eyes were ripped apart form the page towards Spencer who broke the silence.

"The humiliating posing of the body can't be a coincidence. It's just too unique?" Spencer began.

"The bruising on the necks. Looks to me like the first victim struggled. I'd say the killer probably lost his grip a couple times and really had to fight these women," Valentizina suggested, Derek nodding and agreeing with the girl.

"That's why he switched from bare hands to a ligature. It's more efficient, controlled, and it doesn't sacrifice his sadistic need for a slow death."

Shaking the biro-pen between her fingers, her eyes scanned the printed-pictures of Laura's injuries. Her brows drew together, attempting to figure something out. Yet all she could come to was back to the fact that they were working too slowly. They needed to act faster and do more. They were running out of time and letting time slip past their fingers rapidly.

There were multiple bruises in the same spot, she realized. Some new, some old... Like she said before, torture went on for several days. Her cuts and gashes weren't deep, but they were thin and there were many of them; perhaps, the unsub was in a rush. Maybe they didn't have much time...

Penelope.

Her hand quickly snatched Spencer's phone from the table, the man opening her mouth to protest against her action. Yet she held up a finger to him, not really caring about what he said. Instead, her fingers had began scrolling through the young man's long list of contacts. For someone like Spencer, he sure knew a lot of people... Her eyes narrowed slightly when she found the person she was looking for, pressing the call button and raising the phone to her ear.

Valentizina threw Spencer a quick quirk of a brow, before slipping out the room through the doorway, listening to the chime of ringing-tones. She disappeared out of everyone's sight quickly, as she edged closer towards a random wall, leaning against it. The sounds of dial tones were quick to cut off, being greeted with the rustling sound of a moving microphone.

"Pretty boy, didn't expect a call from you."

"Sorry to disappoint, it's Valentizina."

"Reid got a girlfriend?"

"Okay, never call me that again. I'm SSA Valentizina Alianovna."

"Oh my god," she breathed, "I'm so sorry. Ma'am, I-"

Penelope Garcia was shaken up at the fact that the redhead was on the phone to her. Penelope didn't even know how Valentizina had gotten a hold of Spencer's phone, yet she didn't question it. After a phone call with Derek only a few minutes ago, it sounded as if Valentine was a rather uptight and strict person. His warning was certainly took to account and she wanted to do anything to not mess this up.

"Anything new?"

Therefore Penelope looked around at her screens, slightly hyperventilating at the many gruesome things she had saw in the past few hours.

"Uh, well, let's see. In the past few hours I've seen nothing else but the bodies of women being abused and slurs being shouted and everything that I'm scared of. And I have found almost nothing."

"Almost?" she questioned, repeating the word in a curious manner.

"Some of these victims were abducted while driving. It does leave a nice trail, especially when all the parts lead you to Trevor's used auto in Georgia."

"No wonder Jacksonville P.D. couldn't find the vehicles. The unsubs didn't drive the cars. They destroyed them and sold the parts... Unless... Over state lines?"

"You're correct. Over state lines. These sickos are good."

"I'm gonna need you to send me everything you have."

"You got it, red riding hood."

The redhead sighed, hanging up immediately. She wasted absolutely no time in jogging over towards a computer, knowing she was close to cracking who the unsub could possibly be. Perhaps Valentine would be correct or wouldn't, however, she needed to try.

Valentizina sat down on the rather (surprisingly) comfortable seat, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she logged in. With a quiet 'bing' ringing out the computer's speakers, she was immediately greeted with files popping up on the desktop, a document displaying all the information she needed on the suspect. Narrowing her eyes at what she was reading, she hovered the cursor over print.

The scent of strong aftershave made her look to the side, spotting a figure standing over her in the corner of her eye.

"You can't sneak up on me, sweetheart," Valentizina called out, Spencer awkwardly, quietly chuckling, joining her side.

"I... Uh... I need to call Pen-"

"I'm always two steps ahead of everyone. Remember that," Valentizina stated, passing Reid the phone without sparing a glance at the brunette boy, "Already called her, handsome. Answer me, this riddle thee though. The unsubs didn't drive the cars. They didn't destroy them. What's the answer?"

"That's not a riddle. What are you talking about?"

He reached out for the phone, furrowing his brows as he watched Valentizina. Pressing the button, she was quick to shut down the computer and stand up, looking up at the taller man standing over her. Observing over his face, she noticed that he was indeed impressed. The way the corner of his mouth was ever so slightly tilted upwards, his eyebrows arched up.

"I'm talking about over state lines, baby. That's our answer."

"Still have no clue what you're talking about."

She looked at the files that were leaving the printer, making her collect them and turn around to face a frozen Spencer. Without hesitation, she pressed some of the files up against his chest, awaiting for his hand to scramble them and collect from her grip. She watched in amusement as he looked down at his chest, taking the files with a small smile. Yet his eyes looked back at Valentizina who began explaining.

"Some Parts were found in Georgia. Sales were traced to a Joey Davin, who lives right here in Jacksonville. Joseph P. Davin, 27. He was in and out of jail since he was 17. Of course, there was a number of charges, including car theft with a partner."

"Maybe he likes to team up," Spencer suggested, reading over the information just as quick as she.

"Either way, he hasn't learned his lesson," Valentizina adds on, looking down at her watch and back up at him.

"Doesn't sound too smart to me."

"But if he has someone else, he doesn't need to be smart. He just needs to listen. You coming?"

"You know, it's usually Derek doing these things not me."

"Your loss, pretty boy."

Valentine shrugged, walking away form Spencer whose eyes widened. He stood on his tip toes, calling out to the redhead.

"Hey! Wait! I didn't say no!"

•*•*•

Knuckle to wood, knocking sounded out through the rather large house. Valentizina and Spencer awaited for the door to swing open, eyes plastered ahead of them. Yet Valentine's eyes had quickly flew to Spencer's side, flying back to the door when she found the gun strapped to his waist if anything was to happen. It wasn't that Valentizina cared she just... Couldn't be bothered dealing with any injuries.

Suddenly, the door swayed away from them, revealing an elderly man on a wheelchair. The redhead pulled out her FBI badge, looking to the side at Spencer who did the same. She looked back at the man.

"Agent Valentizina Alianovna and Dr Spencer Reid. FBI," she introduced the both of them, lowering her badge at the same time as him. Breathing in slowly, her eyes ran over his expression that changed rather quickly.

A disappointed look flashed upon the elderly man's face. His brows curved up at the front, a glimmer of sadness running over his glossy eyes.

"What can I do for you?"

He wheeled to the side, allowing the two agents to step in. Her foot entered the house first, taking only a few steps through the front door, not wanting to walk further in to disrupt anything that the elderly man was in the middle of.

"We're looking for Joseph Davin," Spencer replied, following the woman's lead.

"What did Joey do now?"

"Sir, we really need to speak to Joey."

The figure of a late 20's, scrawny and skinny male entered their sight. He stood opposite to her, many feet apart by the staircase, yet still opposed to where she stood. His clothes were creased and the stench of alcohol and cigarettes hit her nostrils from the front door, he contrasted with the house and his father certainly. While he looked as if he had been picked up from the streets, the house looked like a million dollars, being kept in rather good shape.

Her eyes flew to his hands which seemed to be gripping something. Yet she looked back up, narrowing her eyes as she called out to him.

"You Joseph Davin?"

"Get out of my way."

All of the sudden, Joseph's arm gripped the gun tighter, showcasing it to the two agents who immediately took action. As his arm flew forward, the barrel pointed at Valentizina herself. With a fast reaction, Spencer and Valentizina showed off their own guns, pointing it at the young lad. His hands trembled greatly, making the agents take to account that he was obviously scared of something - if it wasn't the guns pointing towards him.

"Put the gun down and don't be stupid," Valentizina warned with an order, sharing a look with Spencer beside her before her attention returns back to Joseph.

"I saw it on TV!" he bellowed, "Three strikes and I'm out! I'm not going back! I'm not going down for this!"

Suddenly, Joseph's finger slipped on the trigger, firing a bullet at Valentizina. Though, she didn't even flinch as her feet stepped in front of Spencer, pulling her own trigger , aiming right at the bullet Joseph fired.

The two rapid bullets collided, cancelling each other out and causing an eruption between the two. The tiny shards of the bullets fell onto the floor and yet Valentizina put one more bullet into him for safety. Pulling the trigger once more, the bullet sprinted towards his heart, his body jolting in pain. His balance escaped, body falling to the ground with a gracious thud.

The medics and other agents that arrived behind Reid and Alianovna ran past the pair, quickly to aid him yet Valentizina stayed in place, looking down at her watch once more. They had just wasted more time. But she guessed that even if she didn't shoot him, he wouldn't have spoken even if he got the chance.  Breathing out, Spencer places his gun back in the holder on his waist, looking at Valentizina who didn't seem phased at all.

Her head turned to face his father; he became their one way to catch the unsub. She took to account the way he looked at the redhead in a mixture of emotions. With shock, fear and anger from killing his son. Almost as if he was asking a question: why did you shoot? And so the strawberry-blonde agent answered his question that he didn't ask aloud, slipping her gun back in her belt.

"He didn't want that third strike."

•••

Valentizina's eyes burnt down upon the body with 5 bullet wounds in, her trembling hands dropping the gun, flying to either sides of her head. Her cold fingers wrapped around her head, pulling it as she let out a sob. It all happened so quickly. The way his body dropped as the echoing sounds of gunshots filled the, now, lifeless courtyard.

Every bit of moral she was taught to age 5 had just been stripped away from her as a 10 year old girl had just murdered someone. Perhaps they deserved it. They sure did after the sins they had committed... But it didn't stop the pitiful feeling in her stomach.

He looked... So pale... So colourless... As if he had faded into a monotone picture plastered into her brain for the rest of her life.

"You alright?" Spencer asked, lightly startling her out of her sudden trip down nightmare street. She glanced up at him, nodding. There was a certain look in his eye that Valentizina read perfectly. The slight, glossy shine gave off a worried vibe, the front of his eyebrows only ever so slightly tilted upwards. Spencer Reid cared - that's what made him weak.

He looked over the woman who looked back at the body being picked up and placed on the stretcher. The already pale skin... The still fingers... He was becoming another black and white picture just like the rest of the bodies. But Spencer watched the way she looked at him, her brows slightly furrowed, almost as if she was angry. But she wasn't. And in a quiet tone Valentizina murmured.

"I'm fine."

Her lack of eye contact with him made him want to say something more, yet she walked away far too quick for him to react any way. Valentizina breathed in, pulling herself together on the way towards Joseph's father, Spencer quickly following her no more than a few seconds after.

He looked in the direction of the two agents, a mournful look in his shiny eyes. It was clear that he had been sobbing before - no one blamed him. Yet it didn't seem as if the agents cared about whether he was in mourning or not, because they needed answers as soon as possible - as selfish as that sounded. Valentizina stood over the distraught gentlemen, not opening her mouth to say something, letting him scoff and speak first in a shaken tone.

"Can't this wait?" he asked.

"Mr.Davin, there have been seven women raped and murdered in the Jacksonville area. We can tie Joe to three of them," Spencer hypothesised, immediately making Mr Davin stand down.

There was a moment of silence. A silence that signaled to them that he was willing to talk. He just didn't want to say the wrong thing in case he lost it. So he took his time - and Spencer made sure that Valentizina gave him some.

"I thought by forcing him to move back in here, it would keep him out of trouble..."

"How long had your son been living here?" he asked.

"Two years. After the M.S. put me in a chair."

"Was he still running with his boys from prison?"

"He works at a garage with a bunch of ex-cons. I tried so hard. I just couldn't get him out of that world. I kept telling him, you're better than all this."

Suddenly, an officer walked up to the redheaded beauty, a zip-lock bag in his hand that he held out to her. She observed the tiny bag with pills in, fingers gripping it and moving it closer towards her. Her eyes ended up looking between Spencer and the bag. But she shook her head, looking back at Mr Davin.

"Your son have a friend or girlfriend with long, blonde hair?" Spencer inquired, causing the man to pull a puzzled facial expression.

"Not that I know of, no."

"Is it possible that you wouldn't know if you did?"

"After today nothing would surprise me."

•*•*•

Valentizina watched Spencer converse with the detective, however, she wasn't listening. Instead, her mind was stuck on what Mr Davin said before. About Joseph never really leaving the world he was stuck in. How he still kept in contact with his buddies from prison. It didn't take a genius to figure out that with only a few searches, Garcia could find out who his buddies were. Licking her lips, she pulled out her phone, calling the number she relied on now.

The dial tones of suspense sounded out from the speakers of the phone once more, her tongue running along her dry lips in anticipation until they cut off once more, the shifting of Penelope sounding through the line.

"Garcia."

"Ma'am."

"Who did Joseph Davin share a cell with?"

"Pretty girl, give me 10 seconds..."

Awaiting for her answer, Valentizina looked around. Yet a crease had formed in between her perfectly archived brows when she made eye contact with a certain man. In his hand was a camera pointed at the redhead, causing him to smile and pretend to take a picture of the crime scene instead. Rather confused at what had just happened, Valentizina looked around once more, however, the agent was brought back to earth as the chirpy sound of a blonde entered her ear once more.

"It was a guy named..." she stretched on, the sound of keyboard clicks still sounding in her ear until they stopped, "His name was Tony Canardo. They were in together for 18 months, and both were released 3 years ago. His current address is 865 Kentwood in Jacksonville."

"Got it."

Valentizina found herself peeking back in the direction of the man with the camera. But he was gone, making her bring the phone down from her ear, parting her lips. Strange. Although brushing it off, she pushed the thought of him away, shaking her head as she realised she had more important matters than a photographer. Sliding the phone into the pocket of her trousers, the agent began making way to Spencer and Detective Portillo.

"I got an address of Davin's cell mate. Anthony Canardo."

Walking right in between the two, she got the two men to immediately follow her lead.

•*•*•

Once more, Valentizina's pale knuckles knocked three times against the Woodson door of a small house. It was minuscule compared to the large house she had entered previously. The redhead had hoped to be greeted with the face of her potential lead, however, she didn't expect to be greeted by a short haired blonde who was quick to open the door for her. Valentizina looked over the blonde's expression, noticing the way her hand trembled and immediately flew to scratch her back. She had on an oversized red shirt, smelling of alcohol and freshly sprayed on perfume.

Reid and Alianovna flashed their badges at the woman who gulped, looking between the two.

"May we come in?" Portillo asked, making her frantically nod and open the door.

It was Valentizina who walked in first, looking around the place.

It was an absolute state. There were bottles of alcohol everywhere, standing out with their bright green colour. The pillows were scattered on the floor, a ripped blanket hanging off the sofa. And the smell that welcomed the agents was nothing pleasing either, causing her to scrunch her nose in distaste.

"Is everything okay?" Mrs Canardo asked politely, leaning against a drawer in her kitchen. Her hands remained hidden from them, as her eyes twitched, revealing her nervous look that Valentizina squinted her eyes at. But she walked right past the suspicious blonde, making her way towards the rather small living room that was a tip, leaving her colleagues to do the talking.

The tip of Valentizina's expensive, Louboutin heels had accidentally kicked into a box, making the strawberry blonde's brows arch down. Taking a small step back, her eyes narrowed, eyeing the taped up box she bumped into by accident. Yet it seemed that the more she looked around, the more boxes there appeared to be. Perhaps they were moving or maybe they were hiding something but whatever it was, it certainly alarmed Valentine.

"Cute heels."

The blonde's comment towards Valentizina made her head snap towards Mrs Canardo, nodding with a puzzled facial expression. Yet the middle aged woman laughed, looking back down at the black Louboutin's.

"They would look great on me. Don't you think?"

"Don't hold your breath Tyra Banks, these cost more than this place. No offence."

"I actually do take offence to that. Why are you insulting my home?"

Canardo's comment came out cold, making the redhead immediately look at Spencer, who was just as confused as her. Valentizina nodded again, carefully stepping over to his side, watching the way the blonde eyed her heels like a treasured possession.

"Because I don't care. Listen atomic blonde, I would suggest calling a friend and asking them to stay over. You can't be here," Valentizina ordered her, ignoring the comment from before.

As if nothing happened, the blonde looked up and pressed her lips together, shyly smiling at Spencer and walking away from them. However, the redhead lingered around the kitchen for a while longer, letting her two colleagues leave first before she decided to finally walk out the house. Her eyes scanned her surroundings once more, taking in the appearance of the place. The scratches on the cupboards, the blades, all washed and placed on the drying rack while everything else was left dirty on the sink... All but the knives. Scoffing, Valentizina on her heel towards the door. Her steps were quicker the further she strayed from the house, looking at the 2 black Range Rover's parked outside. One for her and Spencer and the other for Portillo who was leaving to return back to the station.

Opening the car door to the drivers seat, Spencer raised his brows, joking.

"Cute shoes."

"You got jokes now?"

•*•*•

Two hours sitting in the same car as Spencer was a nightmare. He never stopped talking. Yet Spencer's problem was that she was never talking. He rambled on about his day and his career and dreams and cases and random facts and statistics that she, quite frankly, didn't care about. But she sat there, looking out the window, as still as a brick wall. It almost was like talking to a brick wall if it wasn't for the side eye that Valentizina would constantly throw at him every few minutes.

Yet now they were sneaking up behind Tony. Spencer followed Valentizina's lead, watching how she immediately pointed her gun as she turned the corner. Yet she furrowed her brows, noticing there wasn't anyone there.

Spencer's grunt made her turn around, looking at Tony holding a bat high over her head, ready to hit.

Valentizina grabbed the bat, immediately slamming it against her thigh, breaking it in half. The man rapidly cowered down, causing her to grab his shoulder and jump up, wrapping her thighs around his neck, choking him with her thighs in the process. She was quick to immediately push herself up, flipping them both over.

The redhead landed on her feet with his shirt gripped in between her fist, slamming him down on the ground, a loud groan leaving his mouth.

Spencer Reid was in absolute shock at what he had just witnessed, and so was Hotchner with his group of men behind him.

"Bitch," Tony grunted.

Yet the red head immediately pulled him back up, spinning him around and cuffing his wrists as fast as possible.

"Sorry, squidward."

Leaving him with a stupid reply, Valentizina found herself pushing him in the direction of another officer who immediately caught him.

Blowing her short, curled hair out of her face, Spencer found himself giving her a slight smirk of, what he couldn't figure out, either amusement, shock or impression, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Valentizina looked at Spencer beside her.

"I'm the best," she stated.

"Yes ma'am."

•*•*•

Valentizina stood between Spencer and Derek, leaning against the desk behind them. Her brows were furrowed, locking eyes with the man sat opposite Hotch, who preferred to keep his attention on the beautiful redhead. The questioning room remained the silent state it was, either of the men attempting to find the correct words to start with. Her eyes fell of his appearance, taking in that for a criminal, he kept in good shape. If they weren't smart, they'd probably turn a blind eye. But that wasn't the case.

"That's just standard procedure," Hotch finally spoke up, referring to the man's cuffed hands - much to Tony's dismay, "Special agent Aaron Hotchner. I'm supervising this task force. I just wanna say that this case, your case, is remarkable. You've got people at the B.A.U. shaking their heads. Seven victims in three years. You've got every woman in Jacksonville living in fear. That's pretty much what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I'm sure whoever's responsible for it is enjoying it."

"The B.A.U. would like to study you, interview you, with your permission, of course."

"Show me what's in the boxes."

Hotch breathed in, standing up. His hand reached out to a box, slipping his hand in. Out the box, he pulled out a bunch of files, carefully placing them in front of Tony and opening them. They displayed pictures of the victims as evidence, information and diagrams of the whole case.

"This. They're all full. It's all you. We can we can open all the boxes if you want."

"No. I wanna see my lawyer."

It was as if time had stopped. Derek let out a breath, looking beside him at Valentizina who looked at him. Lawyer's weren't ever good in this situation because most of the time, lawyers are the one's who fuck criminal's up and let them getaway with murder. Quite literally, in this case. They watched Tony's facial expression turn into an arrogant and cocky look, knowing he just scored himself a point.

"Well, Tony sure lawyered up quick," Derek commented.

"He's playing games," Valentizina informed them.

"Florida state wants to make a deal if you tell us where Tiffany Spears is," Hotch continued with interviewing Anthony.

"This guy's been to jail before. He knows how to keep his mouth shut," Gideon continued.

"What do you think? That I'm stupid? Because I think you're a bunch of brain dead agents and the only one with a brain is the pretty redheaded woman who almost killed me out there. She seems to know a whole lot more than you."

"And how would you know that?"

"I want to speak to her."

Valentizina quirked her brow, tilting his head at Tony whose eyes burnt in her. She felt the eyes of the agents turn to her, but she ignored the alarming looks she was given. Instead, Valentine breathed in and pushed herself to stand up straight. Her heels filled the god-awful silence, as she strutted towards the door, pushing it open without any hesitation.

"And speak to her you will," Valentizina spoke up, "Hotch, I want the wife brought in here."

"Are you sure?" he questioned.

"Positive. I will wait."

The agent stood up, making eye contact with Valentizina before she moved out the way, letting him close the door. The look shared was a look of confusion. Hotch didn't know what to think of Valentizina anymore. Because if she was the one to close this case for them, Hotch wouldn't know what to do with the redhead. A young woman so talented with a file that was hard to believe? A recipe for disaster.

"Now don't think just because you've brought your pretty little legs and expensive heels here that I'll tell you anything. I just want to ask you a few questions," Anthony dryly chuckled, Valentizina slamming her hands on the desk.

"I don't think you know who you're speaking to. Because my pretty little leg will be sure to knock your ass out so quick you'll wake up back in a prison cell."

His gritted jaw made her nod and straighten back up, taking a seat.

"The truth is, you're just a small, defenseless, skinny moron who seems to think they're better than everyone else when in reality, everyone with two eyes and a brain knows you need to rely on your wife to do anything."

"That's not-"

"You sit, watch and follow her orders because you're weak. Now that is low if I say so myself. And when your wife comes in here, she's going to try and persuade you into telling me where Tiffany is. But I know that she's going to give you signals and those signals will translate into instructions. Well let me beat her to it and give you instructions. You're going to tell me where Tiffany is and if not, approximately a thousand volts will be flowing through your body in the next 24 hours."

The door swung open, revealing a bruised and bloody Mrs Canardo.

The blonde was trembling. Yet Valentizina spotted the awful acting immediately. Her eyes fell upon Mrs Canardo's shaking hands that hesitantly brushed upon the table she sat at carefully and slowly. But Valentizina took a file out from the box, extending it towards the woman and wiggling it in her face making the blonde part her lips. The act dropped immediately.

"I did some of my own research. You had a traumatic childhood. You were raped and abused in the woods-"

Tony's eyes widened, looking from his wife back to the agent. He had been a little too quick to defend his wife, cutting Valentizina off by exclaiming,

"There's this storage unit-"

"And bingo. The woods it is. That's where Tiffany is. Because you wanted someone else to feel the pain you went through as a child and your husband over here just confirmed that," she concluded, leaning back, "He wanted to protect and defend you and as soon as the truth slipped from my mouth he wanted to-"

Mrs Canardo immediately stood up, throwing a punch at Valentizina who caught her hand and immediately bent it the wrong way, causing the woman to yell in pain.

But the redhead spun her around, immediately reaching for the cuffs in her belt and cuffing her hands.

"And from now, you have all the time in the world to think about shoes you'll never be able to get."

The door opened, revealing a group of officers who immediately surrounded Anthony and his wife, causing Valentizina to slowly walk out and look at Derek who threw her a wink before slipping out the room.

Mission successful.

Her eyes fell to Spencer, quirking her left brow.

"We make quite the team, handsome."

•*•*•

Sitting on the private jet, Valentizina looked down at Penelope Garcia's number, pressing the call button for the last time today. Sitting alone on the plane, the redhead listened into the familiar dial tones while leaning her head against the wall with her feet hugged up to her chest.

"Ma'am," Penelope's tired voice quietly spoke through the phone. It was weak and worn out, making Valentizina press her lips together.

"It's Valentizina. Better yet, Valentine. Not ma'am. I'm calling to thank you for today. You did a great job Penelope."

"Really?"

"Really. But do me one last favour, open up your email."

"Why- Oh my gosh, it's a bunch of videos of baby panda's and their families. Valentine!"

"Enjoy it."

Hanging up the phone, Valentine placed the phone down on the table, breathing out.

It was then that Spencer made his way towards Valentine, taking the seat opposite the always miserable girl. His eyes flew over her forever furrowed brows and sad eyes that seemed to never hold any sort of spark within them. They were simply dull. Dark...

"You okay?" he asked in a hush tone, knowing most people on the plane were asleep or trying to get some peace after today.

"I'm fine. Although my thigh hurts a little, you know? From the badass, bat-breaking thing that I did. Looking back-"

"I'm a profiler. Not stupid."

"And I'm wanting to be left alone, Dr Reid. So if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself. But if you ever need a shoulder to cry about anything."

"I'm Russian, I tend not to cry at all."

"And I'm from Las Vegas, I know how to win every game there is. Including your little game of trying to trick the BAU in believing you're someone you're not."

With a small smile, Spencer Reid stood up and walked away from Valentizina, leaving her rather speechless. The effect he has on the strawberry blonde made her rather amused. She didn't show it, even if she was impressed with Spencer. He had figured it out - surprisingly. But he was wrong.

He wasn't going to win.

•*•*•

For the life of me, I can't be bothered rereading for mistakes.