A/N: Don't worry, I'm not abandoning my other projects. But this story popped into my head and threatened to drive me insane so I had to let it loose. (smirks sheepishly)

WARNINGS: Quite extreme gore and violence, disturbing material. I'd say that the rating M is justified. General weirdness. Language. (glances around) Uh… Anyone out there?

DISCLAIMER: Oh boy! IF I did own something, I'd be jumping up and down with joy instead of writing fanfiction. (grins, then sobs)

Awkay. (shudders) This is always REALLY nerve wrecking so I'm just cutting the chase before I change my mind. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

Seven

Waking Up

Headache was the very first thing Dr. Spencer Reid became aware of. He groaned and shifted, expecting to feel his bed. Instead he realized that lay on a hard, wooden floor. In an instant his eyes flew open although the rush of pain such a brash action brought made him whimper slightly. He covered his face with his trembling hands for a moment, desperately trying to overcome the storm of agony.

How could it hurt so much when there was barely any light in the room? What… happened to him? Where was he?

Spencer didn't get any answers. Instead he threw up on the dark wood floor and passed out once again.

The room was even darker when Spencer woke up the second time. His head still hurt but he was pleased to discover that the pain was such he could tolerate. He was actually able to think. Although to be honest he might've much rather not investigated his current situation.

He swallowed loudly against the still swirling nausea that didn't ease the slightest at the smell of his own vomit. Trying not to glance towards the substance he looked around instead, turning his head carefully to avoid irritating it even further.

The room was slightly bigger than he'd first anticipated. It looked like an attic although it was impossible to be sure. So much dust lingered in the air that he coughed, for a few moments sure that he'd suffocate or die of the stabs of pain each cough brought. It took much longer than he would've liked before the fit was over and he could continue his research.

There were wooden walls everywhere around him. Walls that had absolutely nothing on them. The room was clearly a part of a very old building but there were no marks of those years on it; no cracks, paintings, anything. It looked like no one had ever been in the room before him. His eyes strayed with sheer longing towards the room's tiny and only window, only to discover that it'd been blocked with something from the outside. Only a tiny, extremely filthy lamp that hung dangerously unsteadily from the ceiling provided the room light. Spencer gritted his teeth, feeling a lot colder than before.

So that's why it was so dark. He wondered what time of a day it was. How much time had he lost? Spencer shivered and swallowed again, terror sharpening his eyes.

They'd just come back home from a case. That much he remembered. They said their goodbyes, all of them relieved that the case was finally over. Aaron Hotchner promised them all five days off – they'd deserved it, no matter what Erin Strauss would say. They departed, and once he sat into his car Spencer remembered that he didn't have anything to eat at home. So he went to a store.

Spencer's breathing grew a lot faster, as did his heartbeat. Yes, his body remembered this.

In the store he remembered that he'd forgotten his wallet to his car. He was only five steps away from the vehicle when he felt that he was no longer alone. He didn't even get the chance to turn around before there was a shockwave of pain, after which… Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Spencer's heartbeat sped out of control and he felt cold sweat rising to his skin.

This was a nightmare, right? Soon he'd wake up in his own, familiar bed. Safe and sound.

Derek Morgan would never let him live it down if he'd gotten himself into a trouble again. Despite the gruesome circumstances that thought nearly made him laugh out loud. This was all going over his head.

Spencer had absolutely no clue of how long he lay there. Perhaps he passed out once more. But eventually he came to a conclusion that he'd have to get up. He needed to get up, fast.

That thought gave him at least some sort of a shove forward. Gathering his all he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then pushed. The whole world spun before his eyes when he was finally sitting up and he almost stumbled right back down.

For a tiny eternity everything kept twirling around madly, in a million shapes and colors, until the world finally settled.

Settled to the view of a skeleton huddled right next to the room's door, only three steps away from him.

Spencer froze. The entire world around him disappeared for a moment as the skeleton became all that fit into his mind. Then life rushed back into his already overloaded body, nearly making it tilt entirely. Spencer gagged twice, feeling a stinging sensation in his eyes.

A woman. The unfortunate soul before him was most definitely a woman. Blunt force trauma to the head, such that'd nearly crushed the skull. Several broken bones. Wordless tales of countless of nightmarish hours, full of torture and pain.

Spencer couldn't keep his body from trembling violently. For a while he was sure that he'd throw up again but the sensation died into his throat, blocking route from all words and oxygen. It took long before he noticed it.

A letter, attached to the skeleton's ribcage.

Unsure of what in the world possessed him into doing so Spencer got up shakily, instantly relieved by two things. He wasn't tied up. His legs actually supported his weight. He should've known to expect that the relief would be short lived.

'Dear player', had been written to the envelope in a neat, curvy handwriting. Spencer opened the letter with a beat of hesitation. He wished he hadn't as soon as he started reading.

'In just a few moments our game will truly begin. It's the beginning of your journey towards the true peace of mind. Towards your redemption. There will be seven rounds before it's over.

The journey, however, begins with a little test.

The door beside the body of this pitiable creature isn't locked. You're free to go whenever you please. But there's a catch.

You see, you're not the only player I've invited. In a room right next to yours another player has also been presented with these same rules. Both of you have the same terms.

If you meet you'll both be killed. If one of you leaves, as a punishment the other is immediately executed, faces a slow, painful death. If one you does something stupid the other pays the price. Are you sure that you're willing to live with that on your conscience?

The decision is yours to make.'

Spencer stared at the letter, his still aching head spinning. He could barely breathe, let alone think clearly. His hands trembled so that he was about to drop the letter.

Was this some kind of a trick? A plan to make sure that he'd obey? Could he really take such a risk?

At that very second the room's lamp was switched off and it became completely, utterly dark. The small, screeching sound that followed made chills climb down Spencer's spine, caused a gasp to break through his lips. His eyes widened in the dark while the rush of his blood almost deafened him.

He wasn't alone anymore. And there was no telling what the arrival might do.

"Who are you?" he demanded, wishing that his tone had been at least a little bit firmer. There was no reply. He gasped once more and gulped upon feeling the presence approach. He felt the arrival's warmth. "What… What do you want from me? Why am I here?"

The arrival was still and silent. By then he could feel a breath against his neck. There was a person stood directly behind him. Hard as he tried he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't shift even an inch. The arrival moved instead.

The first gunshot was so unexpected that Spencer's lips only opened, unable to produce a sound. Pain ravished his whole body, striking it into a state of shock, as the bullet pierced his foot from directly underneath his right middle toe.

With the second shot Spencer lost control over himself. As his left foot was pierced he yelped and realized that there was no way he could've remained upright any longer. Some tears of pain slipped to his cheeks when he fell to his knees, unleashing a barely audible whimper.

Why… Why did he end up into this sick game? Who was this person? What was going on?

What would happen next?

"And that, was round one", a smooth, chilling male voice half-whispered.

TBC, OR NOT?

A/N: (shudders) And so it begins.

Or ends. It's all up to you, folks. Do you want this story to continue for another four chapters? PLEASE, leave a review – let me know! It'd mean A LOT to me to know if this is trash material or a potential, unfolding story.

Thank you so much for reading this far!

Until next time, with whichever of my works it might be!

Take care!