"Our unsub is extremely intelligent, and we believe he has recently had some type of psychotic break. He is highly organized and effective, and his marks have all been either dangerous ex-cons or men with shady lives. He believes he is a vigilante, and leaves his calling card at every seen: a small pin with a Penrose Triangle, a mathematically impossible object, depicted on the front. This may be him telling us that he is unable to be grasped, like the triangle itself." Hotch had started, the other officers in the meeting room intently listening to the profile.

"We believe something happened to this unsub in his childhood, something he's repressed until recently. Childhood voices telling him to kill," Rossi had said to the task force.

"An unsub with this level of skill could only have possibly been trained by the government, so we're looking for possible ex NSA, CIA, or even FBI agents in the area who fit our profile," Prentiss added.

Reid stayed silent, twisting a pen around in his fingers. You noted that; he had been acting odd the last few weeks. Not as talkative, a bit snappish, and not really hanging out with the team after work anymore. No one else really seemed to notice or care, because, after all, people change. And he was mostly normal, still sometimes joking with Morgan and Rossi.

That night, you had looked out of your hotel room window and saw him leaving, walking down the dark street rapidly.

You followed him at a distance and saw something you had never expected. Down a dark alley, free of cameras, of course, he had a man pinned up against the brick wall. He was talking to the man lowly before he quickly injected something into his neck, via a small syringe. He let the man drop before pulling something out of his pocket and setting it on the man's chest.

A small pin with a white Penrose Triangle emblazoned on the front.

"I've killed men," he said softly.

"You know, I should feel something," he continued before turning around slowly.

"But I don't."