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TO BE in America was to know the infamous Black Wolves. The notorious gang who had built themselves up from the ground, networking into almost every aspect of industry they could get their hands on, funding their investments through a constant string of bank heists. At least, those were the rumours. They never left any physical trace that could directly be linked back to the gang, aside from their masks. Those grey furred wolves that Kai Walker used to taunt the FBI, you know we're behind this, they practically said, arrest us. He showed the FBI up, knowing there was not a trace of evidence to use against them.
And they didn't like that, not one bit. Especially not the BAU, who thrived in complex cases.
But no matter their attempts, they always fell short. Hitting dead ends — brick walls that wouldn't crumble with even the strongest of dynamite. Every time they had a lead, the Black Wolves slipped through their fingers and left behind nothing but a trail of dead bodies and an empty vault where a few million dollars should have been.
All of this meant that the BAU were in utter disbelief when Jennifer Jareau received a call. The gang had shot an FBI agent and taken a worker hostage — their brick walls were crumbling.
Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst of the BAU, walked with determination into the teams conference room, her carmine outfit was rather fitting for the occasion. "I'm sorry I'm late but this is a big one. The Black Wolves," her usually perky face was replaced by an eerie seriousness that was scarcely seen on the blonde woman.
With white sheets of paper in the hands of everyone in the room, filled with photos of corpses and empty vaults, Penelope began. "They're notorious for killing a couple, sometimes three people at every bank they hit. Teens, adults sometimes children — it doesn't matter to them." The screen behind her flashed with a dozen images of corpses; bloodied, bruised and completely unrecognisable. JJ grimaced at the sight of a child — he couldn't have been much older than her own — shot dead on the floor next to what they assumed to be his mother. ( Enzo had tried to keep it a secret from Kai — who didn't condone killing anyone under sixteen — how humane of him! )
"Every cop in the US knows about them. I've spent years tracking them down — nothing. They're faultless." David Rossi had been searching for a lead in the heist gang ever since he'd rejoined the BAU.
"Well, yes," obviously everyone knew they were untraceable. "But here's where things get interesting. The last bank they hit was this morning, right? Well, they took a bank teller hostage but they didn't keep him for long. He was taken at around 10.05am and was released or maybe ran away, we're not sure yet, four hours ago — it just so happens he's in police custody down in Washington." Penelope informed the team, "they want you there." It wasn't the kind of case that the team had to think long or hard about.
They'd do anything to put the gangs endless cycle of murder to rest.
Spencer Reid took a seat beside Derek Morgan and opposite Emily Prentiss. Though the three would usually talk — generally poking fun at something Spencer had said — the atmosphere was different than normal. The ominosity of the Black Wolves had a hold over the BAU. And there was nothing they could do to writhe free of its grasp.
In the tense silence, Spencer found himself pondering the situation that must have led to the Black Wolves taking a hostage. It was messy and unorganised. Two things the heist group certainly were not.
Something felt off.
"This seems so unlike them." Spencer confessed, ridding the team of the uncomfortable silence that had plagued their journey. All eyes were on him, but when no one spoke, he felt the need to elaborate. "Well, they're systematic. They do the same thing at the same time no matter what state they're in. They don't take risks. So why now? Surely they didn't let their guard down to the point of allowing him to escape — if anything, they would be more on edge. So why did they let him go instead of killing him? It feels like they have an ulterior motive."
The team momentarily stirred. He was right — of course— why would they perform such a meaningless task? People known for their brutality didn't have the heart to just. . . let someone run free knowing their faces at least, identities at worst.
"Kids got a point." Derek Morgan was the first to agree. "It's not like them to take non-calculated risks. Or risks of any kind. Somethings up."
"It's the first real lead we've ever had on the Black Wolves." Rossi reasoned, "so what if it's a bust? There still has to be something going on in that group. A division, a change of leadership — maybe someone wants out. Either way, they're slipping up. Who's to say that they won't do it again?"
"I've got to agree with Rossi, here. We need to follow up every possible lead on these assholes." Emily voice was unwavering, she wouldn't take no as an answer. Hotch nodded as she spoke, her gaze lingered on Derek, still unconvinced it wasn't a ruse, raised his hands in defeat and slumped back in his seat.
Underestimating the Black Wolves would be a grave mistake. That much Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid agreed upon. It was just a matter of time before. . . But their thoughts were interrupted by a call from the station that held the hostage — Dylan Mack, he'd finally revealed his name.
"Jennifer Jareau." The blonde answered her phone, prepared to hear the news of a false lead that would send them right back to Quantico. Her expression was indecipherable — was she shocked? Worried? Disappointed? — "Thank you, see you soon."
The team had never been quite as tense as they were in that moment. "Well?" Emily asked, agitated.
"The hostage just told us the name of the Black Wolves getaway driver."
