The explosion took out half the block.

Hotch can still taste the dust — metallic, acrid. The air hums with static, smoke curling from the wrecked shell of the building. His earcom is dead. He can hear Morgan shouting somewhere through the haze, but it’s all garbled.

He’s got maybe two bullets left and no line of sight. The unsub had set traps, detonators wired to everything from the stairwell to the ventilation shafts. JJ and Rossi are cut off outside.

For once, he doesn’t have a plan.

He moves low, sidearm ready, ribs screaming with every breath. Another crack of gunfire ricochets off the beam above his head — close enough to make his ears ring. He drops behind a pillar, heart pounding too loud in the silence that follows.

“Unit One, come in.”

A voice breaks through the static — calm, clipped, but unfamiliar.

He stiffens. “Identify yourself.”

“Unimportant,”

She replies

Hotch spins toward the direction of the voice — the old water tower across the street. Through the smoke, he sees it: a glint of scope glass, then the faint outline of a figure perched steady and deliberate.

“Who authorized your position?” he demands.

“Call sign Birdie. Temporary sniper assist. You’re welcome.”

He can’t even ask for what when-

“Behind you,”

Two cracks. The shots aren’t his. The shooter goes down hard, weapon clattering to the concrete.

The silence after is deafening.

“Still breathing?” she asks, almost teasing.

He leans against the wall, pulse finally steadying. “You’re breaking about a dozen Bureau protocols.”

“Guess you’ll have to file a report.”

Her voice is low, controlled — but there’s something under it, a hum of adrenaline that matches his own.

He scans the rooftops again, but she’s gone. Just smoke, flashing lights, and the faint echo of that calm, disembodied voice:

“High ground, always.”

By the time the team reaches him, the threat’s over. Morgan claps a hand on his shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

Hotch just shakes his head. “New sniper,” he mutters. “Calls herself Birdie.”

Rossi arches a brow. “And?”

He glances back toward the tower.

“She’s a problem”