Sylar - Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker) wrote2010-05-10 01:30 pm
thewatchmaker) wrote2010-05-10 01:30 pm
What's an UNSUB? - Heroes, Criminal Minds Crossover - Part 1
Character: Sylar, Parkman, BAU members Hotchner, Jareau, Reid and Morgan
Fandom: Heroes and Criminal Minds
Word count: 1983
Rating: R mentions of graphic violence
Prompt: Janette: Surely you are old enough by now to understand the difference between "not guilty" and "innocent." for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Part 1 of ?
Bright sunlight filtered through the frosted windows of the squad room, making it uncomfortably warm. Matt Parkman sank down into one of the vacant seats. He was late. He worked vice, but he’d been called in along with most of the detectives to hear the profile on the serial killer.
The Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI wanted Vice and Homicide’s input on the case. Their Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was telling them all that lack of interdepartmental cooperation was a good way to let the UNSUB, as they called him, slip through the cracks.
“UNSUB …” Parkman snorted, casting a glance over at his partner, Mike, who was reading through a folder the BAU Media Liaison, Jennifer Jareau, had given out. “What the hell is that?”
“The UNSUB,” said a tall black man, that Parkman was pretty sure did swimsuit modeling when he was off the clock. “Is the Unknown Subject.”
“Isn’t that pretentious?” Sylar popped in, leaning on the edge of the next desk. He held up a pair of fingers behind the FBI agent’s head like rabbit ears. “Would you look at this guy? Janice would be all over him.”
Parkman’s lips narrowed into a thin line, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping at his unwelcome imaginary friend.
“The UNSUB,” Hotchner began, unlike agent Beefcake; this one looked like a lawyer. “Is a Caucasian male. He is in his early 40s. From shoe impressions at the crime scenes he is between 240 and 300 pounds.”
“Damn that’s a big one,” Sylar snorted, turning to give Hotchner his complete attention. “It’s a wonder the victim didn’t hear him lumbering up behind them, puddles vibrating like the t-rex in Jurassic Park.”
“Shut up,” Parkman mumbled, trying to keep his voice as low as he could, but the perky blonde liaison glanced his way with a sweet smile. “Not you,” he mouthed with no sound.
A skinny kid with longish unruly hair stepped forward, a remote in his hand that started a slide show of one brutal murder after another. “The first two victims, as you know, were bludgeoned in their homes. They showed no sign of defensive wounds. We believe the UNSUB may be in a position of authority or presenting himself as one to gain the victims’ trust. There was no sign of forced entry. They let the UNSUB in.”
“Well that was pretty stupid, don’t you think, Matt?” Sylar leaned over the back of Parkman’s chair, pushing on the back of it, forcing Parkman to scramble and lean forward to keep from going over backward. “Knock, knock, who’s there? Serial killer…. Serial killer who?... Serial killer who’s going to bash your skull in… Bless you, please come in for tea.”
Parkman’s fist tightened until the pen he was holding snapped, smearing black ink all over his fingers. Swearing he grabbed a wad of napkins out of his pocket. With little Matt around, he was always prepared with something to clean up a mess. Looking at the wad of crumpled paper he noticed a bright reddish brown stain on one corner.
“Is that blood, Parkman?” Sylar whispered near his ear. “Or barbeque sauce. With you it’s hard to tell. I mean what the fuck is that on your tie?”
Parkman looked away from the screen down to his tie, checking for a spot that wasn’t there. “Asshole.”
“Made you look.” Sylar snorted and let go of the chair, stepping back and started pacing like a caged tiger.
“The third victim would have been nearly impossible to ID if he hadn’t been found in his own home,” said the swimsuit model. Parkman caught his name this time, Derek Morgan. “The brutality was off the chart compared to the first two, and speaks of a personal relationship between the UNSUB and the victim. You’ll notice the amount of blood spray on the walls and ceiling.”
“Damn that was some fine work,” Sylar said, walking up to the screen, tracing the blood spray with fingers that no one but Parkman could see. “Personal you say? As if they knew each other. Why that’s even more telling than the UNSUB being someone in authority. What do you think, Parkman?”
“Go away,” Parkman said from between clenched teeth, his anger starting to make him sweat in the stuffy room. His words drew the attention of a few of the BAU team.
Sylar laughed.
“Is there a problem?” The skinny kid, Dr. Spenser Reid asked.
“Um, no, sorry,” Parkman mumbled while several of his fellow cops snickered.
“The fourth and fifth victims, on the other hand returned to the same level of violence as the first two victims,” Morgan finished.
“Does that mean the third victim isn’t related to the other four?” Mike asked, holding up his hand like he was in school. Parkman wished he’d asked the question, but with the trouble Sylar was causing him, he had enough attention. They were profiling a serial killer and didn’t need to know about the one mocking him.
“We thought that too, as did your forensic team,” Reid answered. “But the shoe prints are the same as in the other four killings. There are no fingerprints, and the murder weapon, which forensics had determined was a crowbar has not been found.”
“Oh a crowbar, Parkman, I like those. They’ve got great reach and balance. Nearly as much fun as a baseball bat.” Sylar smiled over at him and paced back across the room. “I wonder what the motive was. Don’t you? Don’t you hate it when I’m talking to you in a room full of people, and you can’t answer without looking fucking nuts? Personally I love it.”
Parkman let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache Sylar was giving him making his ears ring. He wanted out of the meeting. He wanted to go home to Janice and Matty. He didn’t care about this. There was no way the BAU would let LAPD catch the guy anyway. Feds don’t share collars.
“This is a waste of time,” he mumbled as he tucked the inky napkins back into his pocket.
“Did you have a question?” Dr. Reid asked, unable to ignore another of Parkman’s interruptions.
“Um, yeah, um…I’m with Vice and didn’t get a folder. What are the victim’s names, and hasn’t anyone found a link between them?”
“Good question, Parkman!” Sylar clapped, and gave him a double thumbs up. “Now you sound like a real cop instead of just a donut muncher. Way to go. You’ll get a promotion at this rate. Janice would be so proud, and hell so would I.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Dr. Reid turned to Jareau to have her give Parkman a folder.
“The BAU had assumed you’d been informed of the victim’s names,” Hotchner quietly informed the assembled cops, casting a dark look at the LAPD Captain. “We thought we were all on the same page.”
“Never assume,” Sylar snorted. “Makes an ass out of you and me.”
“One of the reasons we asked to combine forces on this case was the hope that between Vice and Homicide that you would be able to find a link between the victims,” Morgan added.
Sylar smiled and hopped onto the edge of the desk near Parkman again, his feet drumming on the metal loud enough to wake the dead. “These people are a team. Look at them finishing each other’s sentences and thoughts. We’ll be like that soon too if you don’t get me my body back. Won’t that be great? I’m so looking forward to it.”
Jareau, came over to Parkman and handed him a folder. “I’m sorry Detective, here’s a package we’ve compiled. I’m sorry we missed you. I’m JJ.”
“That’s not your fault,” Sylar told her, grinning ear to ear, not that she could hear him. “Parkman was late as usual. Can I tell you how annoying that is? I hate being late.”
“Do you need me to read that for you, Matt? I know you have problems.” Sylar leaned over his shoulder again, and Parkman could swear he smelled blood on the killer’s breath.
Parkman was sure his teeth were about to shatter as he ground them together to keep his mouth shut. He pasted on a smile for the agent. “Thanks, I’ll read through this. I was late. It was my fault.”
“Yes it was,” Sylar snarked again. “Me, I’m never late. Always, always know what time it is, or I did when I was in my body. Where is it by the way, Parkman?”
“Don’t worry so much,” JJ gave him a sweet smile. “You can look at it while we finish the profile.”
Sylar waited tapping his fingers on Parkman’s shoulders as he opened the folder. He didn’t read the names. The stress was making the letters swim, and he couldn’t fight through his dyslexia to put them into the right order. He took out the victim’s pictures, leafing through them to see if he recognized any of them. The first one seemed a bit familiar, and he thought he might have busted the guy back when he was in uniform but he couldn’t be sure. It was the third face that made him nearly drop the packet.
“Roy?” Parkman’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the face of the water delivery boy and then the bloody mess that had once been him on the floor of the kid’s apartment. “Jesus, I knew this guy. He delivered water to my house.”
“Shhh, Parkman,” Sylar said in a hushed voice. “You might want to keep that down, Matt.”
“What why?” He almost stuttered as he looked up into Sylar’s black gaze.
“Because you’re the UNSUB, buddy. We killed them together. The first two were to throw them off track, and because it was fun. But Roy, you hated that little fucker for boning Janice. He screamed like a woman in case you were wondering.” Sylar licked his lips and chuckled. “I bet if you look really hard, deep inside that you can call up the memory of them all. So much blood on your hands, good thing I had you wear gloves and burn your clothes.”
“You, son of a bitch,” Parkman snapped, drawing the attention of the BAU and the other cops. “Sorry, Roy was a good kid. He helped my wife out a lot when we were separated.”
“And you killed him for it. Murderer.” Sylar started laughing hard. “Want to know who number six is? They haven’t found him yet. It’s your old buddy, Tom. You know the dick who put his dick in your wife. They’ll know it’s you when they find him.”
Parkman’s chest started to hurt, spots flitting in front of his eyes, and he had to hold onto the desk to keep from blacking out. Getting up he excused himself. “I’m sorry. I need some fresh air.”
Sylar waited while Parkman drank from the water fountain, wiping off his lips with the back of his hand. “You ready to make a deal now, Parkman? I make sure they never find Tom, and you get me my body.”
“How are you going to do that?” Parkman demanded. He was too agitated to care that someone might hear him talking to empty air.
“Let me rephrase that, you help me find my body, or I help them find Tom’s. I can make you find it for them. You’ll look like a hero until they realize the link to Janice.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, partner. So deal or no deal?”
“Deal.”
“Deal?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind Parkman. “Are you all right, Detective?”
“Yeah, I’m OK. Making a deal with Roy’s ghost to find his killer is all.”
“And lying through your teeth,” Sylar said, as always getting in the last word.
Fandom: Heroes and Criminal Minds
Word count: 1983
Rating: R mentions of graphic violence
Prompt: Janette: Surely you are old enough by now to understand the difference between "not guilty" and "innocent." for
scifi_muses Part 1 of ?
Bright sunlight filtered through the frosted windows of the squad room, making it uncomfortably warm. Matt Parkman sank down into one of the vacant seats. He was late. He worked vice, but he’d been called in along with most of the detectives to hear the profile on the serial killer.
The Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI wanted Vice and Homicide’s input on the case. Their Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was telling them all that lack of interdepartmental cooperation was a good way to let the UNSUB, as they called him, slip through the cracks.
“UNSUB …” Parkman snorted, casting a glance over at his partner, Mike, who was reading through a folder the BAU Media Liaison, Jennifer Jareau, had given out. “What the hell is that?”
“The UNSUB,” said a tall black man, that Parkman was pretty sure did swimsuit modeling when he was off the clock. “Is the Unknown Subject.”
“Isn’t that pretentious?” Sylar popped in, leaning on the edge of the next desk. He held up a pair of fingers behind the FBI agent’s head like rabbit ears. “Would you look at this guy? Janice would be all over him.”
Parkman’s lips narrowed into a thin line, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping at his unwelcome imaginary friend.
“The UNSUB,” Hotchner began, unlike agent Beefcake; this one looked like a lawyer. “Is a Caucasian male. He is in his early 40s. From shoe impressions at the crime scenes he is between 240 and 300 pounds.”
“Damn that’s a big one,” Sylar snorted, turning to give Hotchner his complete attention. “It’s a wonder the victim didn’t hear him lumbering up behind them, puddles vibrating like the t-rex in Jurassic Park.”
“Shut up,” Parkman mumbled, trying to keep his voice as low as he could, but the perky blonde liaison glanced his way with a sweet smile. “Not you,” he mouthed with no sound.
A skinny kid with longish unruly hair stepped forward, a remote in his hand that started a slide show of one brutal murder after another. “The first two victims, as you know, were bludgeoned in their homes. They showed no sign of defensive wounds. We believe the UNSUB may be in a position of authority or presenting himself as one to gain the victims’ trust. There was no sign of forced entry. They let the UNSUB in.”
“Well that was pretty stupid, don’t you think, Matt?” Sylar leaned over the back of Parkman’s chair, pushing on the back of it, forcing Parkman to scramble and lean forward to keep from going over backward. “Knock, knock, who’s there? Serial killer…. Serial killer who?... Serial killer who’s going to bash your skull in… Bless you, please come in for tea.”
Parkman’s fist tightened until the pen he was holding snapped, smearing black ink all over his fingers. Swearing he grabbed a wad of napkins out of his pocket. With little Matt around, he was always prepared with something to clean up a mess. Looking at the wad of crumpled paper he noticed a bright reddish brown stain on one corner.
“Is that blood, Parkman?” Sylar whispered near his ear. “Or barbeque sauce. With you it’s hard to tell. I mean what the fuck is that on your tie?”
Parkman looked away from the screen down to his tie, checking for a spot that wasn’t there. “Asshole.”
“Made you look.” Sylar snorted and let go of the chair, stepping back and started pacing like a caged tiger.
“The third victim would have been nearly impossible to ID if he hadn’t been found in his own home,” said the swimsuit model. Parkman caught his name this time, Derek Morgan. “The brutality was off the chart compared to the first two, and speaks of a personal relationship between the UNSUB and the victim. You’ll notice the amount of blood spray on the walls and ceiling.”
“Damn that was some fine work,” Sylar said, walking up to the screen, tracing the blood spray with fingers that no one but Parkman could see. “Personal you say? As if they knew each other. Why that’s even more telling than the UNSUB being someone in authority. What do you think, Parkman?”
“Go away,” Parkman said from between clenched teeth, his anger starting to make him sweat in the stuffy room. His words drew the attention of a few of the BAU team.
Sylar laughed.
“Is there a problem?” The skinny kid, Dr. Spenser Reid asked.
“Um, no, sorry,” Parkman mumbled while several of his fellow cops snickered.
“The fourth and fifth victims, on the other hand returned to the same level of violence as the first two victims,” Morgan finished.
“Does that mean the third victim isn’t related to the other four?” Mike asked, holding up his hand like he was in school. Parkman wished he’d asked the question, but with the trouble Sylar was causing him, he had enough attention. They were profiling a serial killer and didn’t need to know about the one mocking him.
“We thought that too, as did your forensic team,” Reid answered. “But the shoe prints are the same as in the other four killings. There are no fingerprints, and the murder weapon, which forensics had determined was a crowbar has not been found.”
“Oh a crowbar, Parkman, I like those. They’ve got great reach and balance. Nearly as much fun as a baseball bat.” Sylar smiled over at him and paced back across the room. “I wonder what the motive was. Don’t you? Don’t you hate it when I’m talking to you in a room full of people, and you can’t answer without looking fucking nuts? Personally I love it.”
Parkman let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache Sylar was giving him making his ears ring. He wanted out of the meeting. He wanted to go home to Janice and Matty. He didn’t care about this. There was no way the BAU would let LAPD catch the guy anyway. Feds don’t share collars.
“This is a waste of time,” he mumbled as he tucked the inky napkins back into his pocket.
“Did you have a question?” Dr. Reid asked, unable to ignore another of Parkman’s interruptions.
“Um, yeah, um…I’m with Vice and didn’t get a folder. What are the victim’s names, and hasn’t anyone found a link between them?”
“Good question, Parkman!” Sylar clapped, and gave him a double thumbs up. “Now you sound like a real cop instead of just a donut muncher. Way to go. You’ll get a promotion at this rate. Janice would be so proud, and hell so would I.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Dr. Reid turned to Jareau to have her give Parkman a folder.
“The BAU had assumed you’d been informed of the victim’s names,” Hotchner quietly informed the assembled cops, casting a dark look at the LAPD Captain. “We thought we were all on the same page.”
“Never assume,” Sylar snorted. “Makes an ass out of you and me.”
“One of the reasons we asked to combine forces on this case was the hope that between Vice and Homicide that you would be able to find a link between the victims,” Morgan added.
Sylar smiled and hopped onto the edge of the desk near Parkman again, his feet drumming on the metal loud enough to wake the dead. “These people are a team. Look at them finishing each other’s sentences and thoughts. We’ll be like that soon too if you don’t get me my body back. Won’t that be great? I’m so looking forward to it.”
Jareau, came over to Parkman and handed him a folder. “I’m sorry Detective, here’s a package we’ve compiled. I’m sorry we missed you. I’m JJ.”
“That’s not your fault,” Sylar told her, grinning ear to ear, not that she could hear him. “Parkman was late as usual. Can I tell you how annoying that is? I hate being late.”
“Do you need me to read that for you, Matt? I know you have problems.” Sylar leaned over his shoulder again, and Parkman could swear he smelled blood on the killer’s breath.
Parkman was sure his teeth were about to shatter as he ground them together to keep his mouth shut. He pasted on a smile for the agent. “Thanks, I’ll read through this. I was late. It was my fault.”
“Yes it was,” Sylar snarked again. “Me, I’m never late. Always, always know what time it is, or I did when I was in my body. Where is it by the way, Parkman?”
“Don’t worry so much,” JJ gave him a sweet smile. “You can look at it while we finish the profile.”
Sylar waited tapping his fingers on Parkman’s shoulders as he opened the folder. He didn’t read the names. The stress was making the letters swim, and he couldn’t fight through his dyslexia to put them into the right order. He took out the victim’s pictures, leafing through them to see if he recognized any of them. The first one seemed a bit familiar, and he thought he might have busted the guy back when he was in uniform but he couldn’t be sure. It was the third face that made him nearly drop the packet.
“Roy?” Parkman’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the face of the water delivery boy and then the bloody mess that had once been him on the floor of the kid’s apartment. “Jesus, I knew this guy. He delivered water to my house.”
“Shhh, Parkman,” Sylar said in a hushed voice. “You might want to keep that down, Matt.”
“What why?” He almost stuttered as he looked up into Sylar’s black gaze.
“Because you’re the UNSUB, buddy. We killed them together. The first two were to throw them off track, and because it was fun. But Roy, you hated that little fucker for boning Janice. He screamed like a woman in case you were wondering.” Sylar licked his lips and chuckled. “I bet if you look really hard, deep inside that you can call up the memory of them all. So much blood on your hands, good thing I had you wear gloves and burn your clothes.”
“You, son of a bitch,” Parkman snapped, drawing the attention of the BAU and the other cops. “Sorry, Roy was a good kid. He helped my wife out a lot when we were separated.”
“And you killed him for it. Murderer.” Sylar started laughing hard. “Want to know who number six is? They haven’t found him yet. It’s your old buddy, Tom. You know the dick who put his dick in your wife. They’ll know it’s you when they find him.”
Parkman’s chest started to hurt, spots flitting in front of his eyes, and he had to hold onto the desk to keep from blacking out. Getting up he excused himself. “I’m sorry. I need some fresh air.”
Sylar waited while Parkman drank from the water fountain, wiping off his lips with the back of his hand. “You ready to make a deal now, Parkman? I make sure they never find Tom, and you get me my body.”
“How are you going to do that?” Parkman demanded. He was too agitated to care that someone might hear him talking to empty air.
“Let me rephrase that, you help me find my body, or I help them find Tom’s. I can make you find it for them. You’ll look like a hero until they realize the link to Janice.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, partner. So deal or no deal?”
“Deal.”
“Deal?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind Parkman. “Are you all right, Detective?”
“Yeah, I’m OK. Making a deal with Roy’s ghost to find his killer is all.”
“And lying through your teeth,” Sylar said, as always getting in the last word.