Author's note: This story has been edited. I would recommend reading from the beginning as plot points and storylines have been changed for a better flow.
Wondering the empty streets of the city that never sleeps. Malcolm was searching for just that...
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“So, it’s all led to this. I can’t believe we’re here now!” John exclaims with a sort of glee. Pulling up a chair taking a seat just behind the spotlight. The Profiler had to squint with one eye sealed shut with blood from his scalp. He was only able to get a legible outline of the Junkyard Killer.
His head ached from whatever he was hit over the head with. Wrists were heavy as they were chained to the cold cement floor. “Together. Ah, Can you feel it? Can you feel it in the air?”
“Am I your next mission?” Malcolm concludes. Voice laced with curiosity instead of fear. Almost taking his captor off guard. “Are you gonna starve me? Like the others? Force me to atone for my sins?” he lists the gears of his mind whirring to life despite his heartbeat in his ears.
“I’m finished with that work.”
“Oh, so you’re evolving. Right in this moment. Even if that doesn’t bode well for me, that really is fascinating.” He thinks aloud. “You killed Shannon with a knife. You took his life with your own hands. That’s not your normal method. For serial killer to change their technique is rare. It’s-it’s impressive.” He had to compliment.
“I don’t care what you think.” John groans.
“Of course you do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be alive, would I? There’s a reason you took me. You’re-you’re looking for a connection.” Malcolm questions and answers for himself.
“Oh, we’ve always had a connection.” He cocks his head to the side the corners of his lips pulling into a maniacal grin.
“Just like you had with my father. ‘Cause Well, you needed him, didn’t you? As a-as a role model. A mentor to show you the way.” Slowly putting the pieces together.
“I liked working with him. And I’m gonna like working with you, too.” the bearded man pulls a knife from behind his back. Letting the light bounce off the blade.
“Well, I’m flattered, but, uh, as many people will tell you, I-I kind of like to work alone. Plus I’m not a killer.” Malcolm corrects and declines.
“That’s because you haven’t been through the trials I have,” John stated. “ ‘Cause, you’re like me.” He gestures with the knife from Malcolm to himself. “If you survive.” He cackles. “Well even if you don’t I’ll have another fascinating project.” He chuckles walking over to the corner of the room shrouded in darkness. “That’s it. Up and at ‘em.” He coos lifting something into his arms. Returning to the light. The chained man’s eyes go wide as saucers.
“I saw you walking the little one to school.” He hums picking the debris from her hair.
Flashes of walking Grace to school the morning after Austin’s party. Her small hand clutched his as they crossed the street. The show of affection made him uncomfortable, but coming from a small child. He couldn’t bring himself to reject her so instead he stomached the uneasy feeling the entire way.
