девять. missing
" spencer's hiding something "

THE BAU TEAM sat impatiently around the briefing table. Their eyes flickered from each other, up to the clock, awaiting for the presence of one agent who they knew was never late. Valentizina. It was the next day after the redhead left Spencer, and the poor boy had to bite his tongue back from saying anything. That was all she wanted him to do - all that he could do for her. Just stay quiet. Act like he doesn't know anything. As if he wasn't the last person she saw before disappearing.

Spencer's fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, leg bouncing up and down. His eyes remained fixated on the case file in front of him, reading it over and over again but, as selfish as it sound, taking no interest in it. Aaron's hand extended out, eyes looking over the watch hands, reading the time to be ten minutes past nine. They couldn't waste this much time waiting anymore, making Aaron let out a deep breath, straightening himself up.

"We can't wait for her, we need to start."

"I don't get it, why's she not here? She'd call in if she was sick, right?" Emily questioned, furrowing her brows. Their heads turned to the raven-haired woman, sharing looks between each other. She would call in, and the fact that no one has seen her since yesterday worried them.

"She's not sick."

A voice from the doorway spoke, making them all turn to face the newly entered presence in the room. Penelope Garcia stops with a file hugged up to her chest, her eyes blinking a little more than they usually should. Her mouth was slightly open in an 'O' shape, not exactly knowing how to break the news to them.

Hotchner's head tilted, quirking a brow at the blonde.

"Valentine's resigned."

Her arm outstretched towards Hotch, offering him the file. But he found himself, along with others, simply sat still in question. Why would she resign? Their bodies remained as still as ice glaciers, yet melted at the sound of Aaron's chair scraping against the wooden ground. He pushed himself out the table, stepping up on his feet to make his way towards Penelope. He gripped the file, gently pulling it away from Penelope's weak grip and opened it, revealing a red stamp that imprinted the word 'RESIGNED'.

"Why didn't it go through me first? Where did she go?" Hotch furrowed his brows, shaking his head. He looked up at Penelope who gulped and nodded her head, looking over everyone.

"That's the thing. I can't find anything to do with her leaving because no one's actually seen her since yesterday. There's been no activity on her card, cellular device and security cameras in her house. She's gone, and I don't think she was the one who made the choice to resign."

"Woah, hold on," Derek motioned with his hand to stop, "You're saying someone went in to resign her? Is that even allowed?"

"I'm saying, Valentine's missing."

"Well... It's only been a day, right?" JJ thought aloud.

"It doesn't stop the resignment from being awfully dodgy," Gideon finally spoke up. Yet his eyes looked at Spencer who remained silent, eyes not leaving the case file, his body as stiff as a board, contrasting with his fidgeting before. The elder man furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at the young agent and the tongue that ran over his lips, eyes never looking up.

"Reid," Gideon called out to Spencer who looked up immediately, biting the inside of his cheek, "You know something?"

"Nope."

"Reid, for someone who took an awfully large amount of interest in her you're certainly sounding against finding her. Spencer, are you hiding something?"

Spencer stayed silent, furrowing his brows.

"I'm just thinking logically," he began to ramble, "I mean, her mothers just died... Maybe she needs a break? She didn't really tell us anything, she might be going through grief."

"Reid, you really think that woman was her mother? Come on, that lady was crazy."

"Even if, maybe Valentine was just shaken up from it."

"Enough to resign?"

"She could be going through the shock stage of grief and resigned for the timebeing and might come back during denial or acceptance. Did you know that only 10% of what is said to a griever is actually helpful to them? Valentine-"

"Reid," Hotch cut off Spencer who grew quiet, pressing his lips together and looking back down at the case in front of him.

"Spencer, something's wrong," JJ softly admitted, "Deep down, you know that."

•••

Her sweat glistened under the cheap, dim light above her, running down her pale, exposed skin. A frown line bulged out of her forehead, her hands tightened into a fist, punching bag shaking furiously at the impact of her quick left hooks. Her eyes remained fixated on the punching bag, blatantly ignoring the red liquid splattered against the white punching bag. The pain that ran down through her fists remained a stinging sensation that she did nothing about, letting it grow worse and worse, risking an infection.

Clicking sounded out from behind her, causing her to take one last, mighty punch at the bag. Without warning, the punching bag flew back, the sound of scraping against the floor alarming the two in the room. A split had ran up the side of the leather-coated bag, sand escaping like a wild prisoner. However, Valentizina Alianovna's face didn't twitch. Her eyebrows remained in their resting state, a frown line still visible upon her shining forehead, revealed to the unwelcome guest when she spun around on her heel.

It was a rather cold night down at the Academy's cellar, but there was nothing Valentine could do about it apart from warm herself up military style. But now the chilling breeze than hit her skin every so often didn't affect her as much as before, drying out her sticky skin instead. Valentine had almost forgotten about the cool evening until her eyes found Nadia's.

The silver haired woman stood with a left brow raised, hands clasped together behind her back. The look of curiosity payed a visit as she glanced from the redhead, to the ripped punching bag.

"It was a nice trick you played out there. But I know you too well," Valentizina began.

The tone in her voice was as monotone as a black and white picture, posture as still as an ancient statue - at risk of breaking, yet trying its very best not to. Nadia inhaled sharply, biting back her tongue from speaking. Her trembling hands slipped behind her back, head tilting upwards.

"All those years you spent teaching me, calling me weak, beating me and you think that your pathetic little act could make me believe you were dead. You should know better than to think I would believe for a second you went down that easy with two bullets. And you should know better to think that I don't know how you've been beginning to keep tracks of me, planning out your attack on me.

And for what? What do you want from me? I left all those years ago, why now get revenge for my escape? Are you angry because you got caught? Because you had to move your base ever since the FBI discovered it again? Tell me mother, what brings you back to square one? Back to threatening your only child with a gun pointed to them by someone else who you forced to do your dirty work?

But see, the biggest question is, Valentizina, why did you come back to me?

The answer is easy.

You want to prove a point, that's what you always taught me. Isn't it? You'll take him. And you'll take others. But it doesn't matter who you take, because you want me. You want to lure me to you because you know that I will find them and save them. So here I am. No games, Nadia. I've got nothing."

Nadia stepped closer, a click of her heel echoing through the spacious room. Her feet slowly stepped ahead of each other, circling around Valentizina with a growing smirk on her wrinkled face.

"Tell me. What did it cost you, Valentizina?" Nadia's voice ran through the room, "What did it cost for you to willingly give yourself back?"

"Nothing."

"That's a lie, you had something. You had the boy. You had the team. You had the beginnings of your own life."

"And I had the safety of my friends. And now that I'm here, I've ensured that the safety maintains. That's the deal, Nadia."

"Seems like you're in the wrong business."

"There's a lot of that going 'round."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I thought I was going straight when I traded in the KGB for the BAU. Guess I was in the wrong business after all, because it lead me back to you."

Out of the corners of her green eyes, she glanced at the fingers that slowly made their ways towards her hands. The cold touch of Nadia's fingers sent goosebumps down Valentizina's skin in the worst way possible, fingers wrapping tightly around her forearms as she raised her hand up in front of Valentizina's. Wickedly, a grin appeared on Madame's face.

Yet Valentizina used her other hand to grip Nadia's wrists, twisting her whole arm back, sending a hiss to leave Nadia's lips in pain.

"And I will kill you if that deal ends up being broken. I promise you that."

The redhead's perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed, throwing the silver-haired woman's hands back down. Nadia was left speechless, slightly taken aback as her finger brushed upon the red marks Valentine has created.

"I'll bear it. So they don't have to," Valentine finished.

Yet after seconds of chilling silence, Nadia chuckled a cold, menacing chuckle.

"Lucky for you, the deal stands. I found you a mission."

The words hit Valentine with a stork of emotions. Her body tensed, eyes glancing down at her feet, the corners of her full and plump lips parting. Her heart raced, mind rushed with multiple thoughts at once. Yet the one question that lingered around the longest in those couple of seconds of silence was: would she be able to do it? It had seemed that for the first time in forever, Valentizina was questioning her own strength. Questioning whether she was strong enough to move onto a brand new phase of working for the KGB. But striking her out of her thoughts was a quiet cough coming from the older woman, reminding Valentizina of where she was.

"There's a recent show going around on the dark web recently. They take young children and women, and seek for donations on a livestream with viewers that decide the fate of the victims. The donators decide what should happen with the victim. Whether they should be stabbed, raped, murdered, hung and well... You get the ordeal. Your mission is to find the men in charge and kill their families first."

"And why is killing the families necessary?"

"Because you're going to teach the men a lesson. You're going to show them how it feels like to lose people they love, just like people lose others they love by the hands of these men."

Valentine furrowed her brows, looking at the ground and crossing her arms.

Was she really prepared to fall back into old habits? To kill both ones who deserve it and those who don't...

To kill everything she had made for herself...

To kill a part of herself...

Because Valentine feared that once she did this, she would never, ever be able to start again. That she wouldn't go back. That nothing would ever be the same. That nothing would feel the same. And Valentine didn't want that to happen but she was afraid that it will. That she's never get a life of her own.

Yet she remembered, that she was giving up her own life for theirs.

"Consider it done," Valentine hushly agreed, sticking her nose up once more, clenching her jaw as her eyes fell upon Nadia's glistening ones.

"You're too smart for your own good," Nadia grinned a terribly, terrifying grin. She moved smoothly towards the bar against the wall that Valentizina had the choice of using but never did. Instead, she watched Nadia fixing herself a drink in silence. Her hand reached out for the finest bottle of Gin on the shelf, twisting open the cap with no problem before taking a glass from the side and spinning around to face Valentine.

"They deserve to suffer. They deserve to watch their family die in front of them. To see the fault that they had caused. This ones on them. Not you. They killed them in the process of killing others. You're simply there to show them what they have done."

Nadia reassured the redhead, stepping closer to Valentizina, pouring the alcohol into the squeaky clean glass.

"And revenge is a dish best served cold."

Valentizina stayed still. She didn't quite know how to react. Her eyes ran up from the glass to Nadia's sly expression, eyes inches away from her own. But they fell back down as Nadia's hand had raised the glass up closer to Valentine in an offering manner.

Her voice, hoarse and dry, faintly stated sharply. She spoke in a thick British, London accent that she had developed over the years from her childhood.

"I don't drink on mission."

A smile stretched across Nadia's face.

"Very well then, little soldier."

Immediately, the golden brown liquid was brought up to Nadia's cold, chapped lips, swallowed numerous times in one go. Her eyes remained open, not a muscle flinching from the burning sensation. But it was nothing that surprised Valentine who awaited for the glass to be dropped.

Crash!

Shards of glass bounced against the ground, breaking into minuscule pieces that scattered against the ground. But Valentine didn't dare to look at the broken glass, remaining eye contact with Nadia, jaw clenched. A cold, threatening look that Nadia taught Valentine was exactly what gave the woman a signal of acceptance of the mission. Valentine was ready. Nadia knew that. And it was more than just the look she was giving her that gave it away.

"Follow me," Nadia ordered, spinning around in one quick manner, feet stomping intimidatingly against the concrete flooring. But Valentine's feet extended out, finally moving from her still position quickly, walking in a strutting manner.

Madame's hand reached out for the door knob, twisting it and pulling the door open. It revealed a long, red-coloured corridor with multiple paintings and photographs of the assassins that were still alive and training.

However, Valentine's eyes found themselves to shoot towards a chubby, old man. He stood with a hammer, hammering out the nail from one of the paintings of the girls. It was only seconds before they entered another room that she noticed the painting was being took down and destroyed.

Another assassin dead. Too weak, Valentine thought. Yet shaking her head from the menacing thought, her eyes returned back in front of her, legs speeding up.

"You will be undercover as a 21 year old scientist," Madame spoke out bitterly, "You will go by Valerie Nova. Parents died in a car crash at eighteen, you attended MIT, you're engaged to an FBI agent by the name of Ryan Starling. I've prepared your background file and documents, you shall in no circumstance reveal your identity to absolutely no one. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

Their bodies came to a halt at the same second as they walked on through to another room. The walls were a shade of dark brown, the dark wood fitting in with the gothic theme. It had been a while since Valentine had been in here. Her eyes fell upon the newspapers covering the whole wall to the left of her, full of headlines about murders and assassinations dating all the way back to the early 1900's. Her plump, pink lips parted, pupils increasing in size as she stared deeply at the photographs and texts from a distance. But they dilated as she scanned the rest of the rooms, eyes falling upon a huge painting hung up on the wall behind the desk she was stood behind. It was of Nadia, posing without a smile, dead seriously.

Slam!

Nadia tossed a file loudly onto the desk, Valentizina's attention darting to the light brown case file. She powered towards it, hands snatching it off the table, flicking it open speedily.

Name: Valerie Nova
Birthplace: UK, London
Parents: Niall Nova, Maria Nova [deceased)
Gender: F

The candles flickered from the sides of the room, warming up her skin that was now cold to the touch. Her tongue ran over her lips, breathing in deeply. The smell of the metallic-scented, crimson liquid had already hit her nose. Though there was none around, she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of death that she was going to get used to once more. It didn't please her, yet again, Valentine had no choice.

Her skin grew sticky, leaving oily fingerprints on the file that was tossed onto the table.

"Where do we start?"

"With Vladovin. A place where crime has found home."

"Am I to guess that this is where the site originated from?"

"We can only guess buts it's likely."

•••

Valentizina found comfort in a seat stacked with pillows and blankets by the window her eyes never left. She admired the views greatly, founding a big entertainment in the view. In the large buildings that looked titchy from where they were.

The abnormally loud bang from in front of her made her head snap towards Nadia who had purposely slammed a large case on the table. Wickedly chuckling, she fell back, leaning back in the seat. She earned herself a raise of a brow from Valentizina who eyed up the black case and the silver haired woman out of breath.

"What you looking at me like that for?" She questioned.

"I don't know, it's not like you just dropped a rather large case in front of me without uttering a word."

"You must be fun at parties."

"Honestly, I wouldn't know."

"Just open it."

Leaning forward, Valentizina's fingers were quick to click open the case, lifting up the top part of it. She ran her tongue over her teeth as many kinds of weapons were revealed inside the case. Her fingers ran across the red velvet within the case, feeling the luxury that she didn't know the academy could even afford still.

The redhead reached out for one of the guns, carelessly wrapping her fingers around the grip in a rather quick manner than alarmed Nadia. She stuttered for a little second, not managing to say anything as she, extremely skilfully might she add, spun the gun in between her fingers, eyes glancing up at her confused expression.

"Steady on, Nadia. Not here to kill you yet," she assured her, putting the gun back into place.

Valentine slowly picked the top of the case back up, lowering it down to close it and click it back to shut it. The satisfying sound of that very click made her lean back, slowly looking back at the window. Her fingers wrapped around the glass of gin on the table.

She rarely drunk on mission, but she was willing to do it just this once.

So here's to the very first bucket-full of blood to be spilt on her hands, and never washed away forever as a welcoming back activity.

"Oh, and Valentizina."

The redhead put down the glass, raising her brows, awaiting for the silver haired woman to continue.

"I've booked you a hair appointment. We're getting rid of the hideous red."

END OF PART I