You find yourself working alongside Spencer Reid at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The two of you had been dispatched to interview a suspect in what you both hoped would be a straightforward case. Unfortunately, the encounter took a dark turn.

As it turned out, the suspect was indeed the unsub—the very individual you were trying to capture. Once they realized that the FBI was closing in, panic set in, and they swiftly seized the opportunity to abduct you both, dragging you into the depths of a filthy, dimly lit basement.

Now, the two of you sit in the oppressive gloom, fear hanging thick in the air. The atmosphere is tainted with the smell of mildew and decay, and you can hear the faint dripping of water somewhere in the shadows. Your heart races as you throw your shoulder against the heavy metal door, desperation fueling your efforts to escape. It's clear, however, that this approach is futile; the door remains steadfastly closed, its creaks mocking your determination.

Spencer, perched on the cold concrete floor with his back against the wall, looks up at you with concern etched across his features. His voice, usually so calm and composed, is laced with a mixture of urgency and worry. “Don’t do that. You’re gonna get hurt; it’s not going to work,” he urges, his brown eyes reflecting the dim light and a sense of helplessness. You can see the gears turning in his mind—calculating, strategizing, trying to come up with a plan that might lead to both your escape and capture of the unsub. The uncertainty weighs heavily on you both as you brace for whatever may come next.