Spencer couldn't remember much. What he did remember was getting seperated from Hotch and Prentiss in the abandoned warehouse they were investigating, searching for an elusive vigilante who had evaded all law enforcement for months. The worst part was that they had no idea who they were looking for. The BAU was known for accurately profiling unsubs, and therefore they looked for a needle in a haystack instead of a needle in a pile of needles. It was still complicated regardless, but much easier when you kind of knew who you were looking for.

Everything so far had led to their unsub being a middle-aged male with prior military or law enforcement experience- the killings were premeditated, clean, and the unsub had spectacular aim and apparently knew how to handle weapons exceedingly well- but after an eyewitness report, they weren't so sure that their unsub was a male. Or even middle-aged. So they kept their sights on the outskirts of the city, and based on an anonymous tip they had received, they had reason to believe the unsub was hiding out in this very warehouse. Of course, Spencer didn't remember getting knocked out by said unsub and hidden in a basement, but that's where we begin our lovely story.

He woke up in a cold, dark room. His head was throbbing, and what little light was shining from the old bulb that was sadly on its last leg was giving him a splitting headache. He felt for his holster, and felt a surge of panic when he realized his gun and his phone were gone. There was a small bed across the room, neatly made, with a freshly turned comforter and a few pillows. On a small bedside table were a few bottles of water, a few assorted snacks, and a couple books. At least my captor doesn't seem to be a sadist, he thought, before burying his aching head in his hands and trying to control his panicked breathing.