Shipping Yard Warehouse, Boston MA
Jay's entire body was cramping and burning; she had been crouched like a child with her fingers interlocked behind her head, facing the wall, for what felt like an age. In reality it had only been five minutes but fear and dread were slowly taking over her mind, dragging out each agonising second. Finally, the Watcher returned; Jay could hear the shackles he carried clinking and rattling in his hand. "Stand up and turn around" he barked, and Jay hastened to obey.
She didn't make a sound as he fastened the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, even though the feeling of the cold metal encircling her skin sent waves of panic flashing through her; she knew exactly what that sensation signalled. When the Watcher drew a syringe filled with a clear liquid from his pocket her resolve crumbled. "Please, you don't have to do this, you don't understand-" she begged, curling her arms into her chest in an effort to protect her veins from the terror held within the syringe.
The Watcher, however, ignored her pleas and yanked on the chain between her wrists, forcing her arms straight out in front of her. "There is nothing to understand. Orders are orders." And with that he plunged the needle into a vein in the crook of her elbow and injected the liquid.
A second Watcher was stationed nearby; he opened the door to the Dark and a silver-grey mist spilled out from its black abyss. The first Watcher shoved her forward and she stumbled onto her knees. She could already feel the drug working its way through her system; the edges of her vision were blurred and colours that didn't exist were beginning to distort the Dark in front of her. The Watcher hauled her to her feet and threw her inside, all but dragging her a few metres to where there were two rings embedded in the wall and the floor- to which he fastened the chains restraining her.
Then suddenly he was gone, and then as the door of the meat locker slammed shut behind him, so was the light. She was alone in the Dark.
Medical Examiner's Office, Boston MA
"Hello, Dr Betker? I'm Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss from the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, this is my colleague SSA Reid. I believe you've been expecting us?" Emily said, shaking hands with the middle-aged man in front of her.
"Ah yes, the BPD informed me a couple of hours ago that they were requesting the assistance of the BAU on the multiple homicide. It's certainly an unusual case. Please, follow me." Dr Betker replied, pushing open the double doors that led to the morgue.
"I'm assuming you'd like to examine victim number 4 first? John Doe, height of 6 ft?"
"Yes actually, specifically his tattoos- preliminary analysis suggests that he was a possible unsub before his death." Reid replied.
"His tattoos are certainly interesting, as small as they are. The ones on his neck more so than the one on his wrist."
"How so, Doctor?" asked Prentiss.
"It would be easier for me to show you." The doctor replied, showing them over to a stainless steel table where a body lay covered by a white sheet. Dr Betker drew back the sheet and retrieved a black light from his desk drawer, giving Reid the chance to take a closer look at the tattoos. Nothing about them was different from the photos he had studied on the jet, just the same 3 black squares.
Dr Betker turned the John Doe's head so that the tattoos were facing upward, then shone the black light over them. In each square, a blue series of letters and numbers glowed back at the two agents.
"Wow, he was tattooed with UV ink?" Prentiss said, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, and only in these black squares. Since I first stumbled upon them I've been over every inch of his body checking for any tattoos I may have missed during my preliminary examination and found none." The doctor replied.
