And so it begins
“So how was it?” Garcia asks, bumping her shoulder up to a very tired Derek Morgan.
Morgan sighs. His shins are killing him, a large bruise is forming on his hip, and he aches at every step. God, he’s getting old. It’s not often that he thinks about it, but today that’s the only thing on his mind. It's hard not to when every step is a new form of torture. He’s not a fan of feeling old; it used to be that he could shake off anything with his fit twenty year old body. Not anymore. He sighs again.
“Rough.”
A large smirk spreads across Garcia’s face, “You got your butt kicked by a bunch of twelve year olds.”
They push open the doors to the office bowl pin. Garcia’s smirk turns into a loud laugh. Morgan feigns hurt, grasping his shoulder as if it had been shot. Over the weekend on an outreach activity, Morgan taught a martial arts class for underprivileged kids. They went much harder than he expected, but he had enjoyed working with the kids. What’s the point of being a black belt and not flexing it? He's about to fire back at her when he notices the rest of his colleagues fixated on Agent Hotchners’s office. Through the windows, it is evident that the man is not having a pleasant conversation with Strauss.
“How long has he been in there?” Morgan asks, looking at Reid expectantly.
He’s given a short “14 minutes 25 seconds” from the good doctor. Very enlightening. No one else cares to respond; they’re all too wrapped up in forming their own profiles. Every time Strauss goes into that office bad things happen and not their usual serial killer kind of bad. Hotch gives Strauss a solid nod before they both exit the office, parting ways. That is the rest of the team's signal to get their stuff together for the briefing.
Morgan grabs the tablet off his desk and heads up the stairs. The walk to the briefing room is never long enough; never enough time to prepare yourself for what was about to be discussed at that round table. It never gets easier and in some ways that’s good. It keeps you human.
“So how were the kiddos?” Morgan turns slightly to see Rossi giving him a half smile. They both know that the answer won’t ward away the inevitable, but it’s nice to pretend.
"I heard they whooped his ass," JJ chimes in.
"That's not-"
JJ winks her pretty blues at a chuckling Morgan. There is no denying it; the kids kicked his ass.
“Let’s get started,” Hotchner begins. “Late yesterday morning, a local truck driver discovered the remains of six employees and customers in a Nevada diner.”
Morgan turns to the files on his i-pad. The first picture is of a young waitress, a gunshot wound through the skull. An ache spreads through his chest. These people didn’t have a chance. The second picture is of an old man slumped onto the table, blood stained his paper red. Morgan takes a deep breath and sets down the tablet. He looks up at the grim faces that surround him.
"Four head shots? Are we looking at professionals?" Morgan remarks.
"That is the working theory, yes."
Prentiss looks up from her tablet, “If this is a professional hit, why are we being called in?”
“The marshal-”
“Marshal?” Reid interrupts.
“The marshal called to the scene requested the BAU consult. The third victim,” Hotch displays a picture of a fat man on the board. “Was in the process of entering witness protection.”
The room falls silent. As Reid so helpfully points out, the witness protection has helped over 19,000 people and no one (who was following the rules) has ever died before. This was the first time; no wonder they wanted help. If there’s a leak, it could mean major problems for their business model. The pressure is going to be on for them to solve this case quickly and quietly.
Hotchner stands up, eyeing the team carefully before saying, “Wheels up in 30.”
***
A young man stands in the middle of an empty warehouse outside of the same town where the diner was attacked. He wrings his hands nervously. This is a man in way over his head. Out of the shadows steps the Asset. The other man can barely hold in the fear that runs cold in his veins.
"Do you have the next location?"
The man hands over a file and in the blink of an eye the Asset is gone.