Prologue:

Slap! Smack! Punch!

Reid's head was thrown back as calloused fists struck him over and over again. Involuntary tears stung behind his eyes yet he refused to let them fall.

It wouldn't do him good and even worse, they would enjoy it.

So he used his willpower to hold back any cries of pain and attempted to suppress his grimaces. He's been tortured before so he's experienced pain, but this…this was relentless. He felt as if he's been hit every second of every day for an eternity and the affliction was only getting started.

And it hasn't even been 30 seconds.

A blow to the head fuzzed his hearing, muffling Hotch's angered yells. And yet his tormentor refused to cease, only seeming to increase the intensity of his punches.

Slap! Smack! Punch!

But probably the worst part was that like the last time, he was just as helpless to make it stop, to shield himself. Yet instead of handcuffs restraining him from in front of him, they were behind him this time; he felt them straining against the wooden chair as he struggled to evade those brutal fists.

Slap! Smack! Punch!

"Stop. He's had enough." Reid secretly released a sigh as those calloused fists drew back and the owner of them stared at his companion.

"And why the hell should I? His blood isn't on my knuckles yet." Despite himself, Reid couldn't suppress a shiver.

"No, not yet but you want him to suffer, right?"

A brief nod of confirmation. "More than a sinner in Hell."

"Then restrain yourself. You might kill him too soon if you don't. Besides, you forget that I need to make my mark too." A gleam shines within sadistic eyes and Reid stiffens as a knife is unsheathed from within a trench coat.

"Damn it Foyet, stay away from him!" Reid's eyes snapped over Hotchner who was straining against his own bonds, his face red with anger and blood.

George Foyet looked over at him, grinned, and mockingly asked, "And why should I, Aaron?"

Hotchner gritted his teeth and ground out, "Because he has nothing to do with this! It's me you want! Just let him go!"

Foyet smirked and slowly shook his head. "No. Because you see, Aaron, Dr. Reid has everything to do with this as you do." He walked over to Reid and circled his chair, standing behind him. "He hunted me like you did and he did Hankel wrong. He put him in that god-awful institution and made him live through Hell. I think it's about time we returned that injustice."

Then slowly, he touched the blade to the young profiler's neck and lightly traced it across. Reid instinctively attempted to avoid the knife but Foyet roughly grabbed his hair and forced his head up. Foyet darkly chuckled as Reid's breathing hitched. "Hmmm…I'm wondering where I should make my mark. Here?" He made a light nick under his chin, drawing a dot of blood. He moved the knife upwards. "Or here?" He made another one higher, making a thin cut across his cheek. Reid winced at the mild sting but remained quiet, briefly squeezing his eyes shut.

"Ah, ah, ah Doc," Foyet said condescendingly as he gave his hair a twist. "There's no point trying to hide your fear. Open your eyes or I'll make you by cutting out your eyelids." Unwillingly Reid reopened his eyes and warily glanced up at Foyet who grinned eerily at him.

Meanwhile 'Charles' Hankel glared at him. "You're weak."

Foyet sneered, "Isn't he? What do you say we make him suffer for his impotence, hmm? Nice and slowly." He traced his knife to Reid's throat and pressed the blade until there was blood. Reid struggled to keep breathing.

Hotch flared with rage. "Don't try dragging Tobias into this, Foyet, this is between you and me."

Foyet barked a laugh. "That's where you're wrong, Aaron. Sure I've had fun playing games with you but I think it's about time we have other players. Now you have a group of FBI profilers to help you but where does that leave me? I think it's only fair that I have my own set of allies on my side. And that's where Charles, Raphael, and Tobias come in—you can say they're my teammates. We're playing the game together so we can win against you and your precious team."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "This isn't a game if it involves murdering innocent lives!"

As 'Charles' snorted, Foyet scoffed, "Innocent? Those people weren't innocent. They were sinners, bastards who roamed this earth and tainting God's good name." 'Charles' nodded his approval while he crossed his arms.

Hotchner shook his head. "As if the concept of God mattered to you. You don't care about ethics or morals—you kill to feel power and dominance. Drop the act, Foyet. You're not fooling anyone."

The Reaper chuckled and shook his head. "Wrong again." Then he turned back to Reid, "You've been awfully quiet, Dr. Reid. Are you having fun playing my game? It must've been boring playing as a pawn for so long but now you get to play with the big boys. Now that's a step up, eh kid?"

His eyes glinted maliciously and Reid repressed another shiver. He took a deep breath and looked to 'Charles', "Mr. Hankel, I know you may think of me as a liar but you need to know that Foyet is manipulating you. He's just using you to get what he wants. Please, you have to believe me. I-"

"Quiet you demon!" 'Charles' snapped at him, his eyes blazing. "I've heard enough of your lies and it's time for you to repent!" He looked to Foyet, "Make sure he's still alive when you're through with him. I'd like the honor of sending him back to Hell my way!"

Foyet smirked and remarked, "Gladly." He pressed the blade firmer as he glanced at Hotch. "You know, Aaron, this could've all been prevented. If you had just made the deal then this wouldn't be happening. Everything I'm gonna do will be your fault."

"Don't listen to him, Hotch!" Reid hurriedly said. "You are not to blame for any of this! You were right in not negotiating with him! He would've-" He was cut off by his own pained cry when Foyet made a quick swipe across his arm, leaving a bleeding, shallow laceration. Hotchner angrily jerked in his seat, held back by the handcuffs around his wrists.

Foyet's expression was somewhere between amused and annoyed as he growled, "All this talk is boring me so you should shut up." He glanced at Hotch and said, "Just to let you know, the scars I'm gonna leave on him are gonna make yours look like paper cuts. Now why don't you sit back, relax, and enjoy the show; after all, I got you a front row seat."

"Damn it, don't you dare!" Hotchner lurched in his chair, striving to get loose.

"It-it's okay, Hotch," Reid said as he ignored the blood trickling down his arm and the vicious burning of his wound that matched with the throbbing of his bruises. "I'll be alright."

Foyet laughed with amusement. "You say that now but you have no idea what Charles, Raphael, and I have in store for you. By the time we're through, you'll wish that the Devil came and gave you the luxury of slitting your throat before dragging you to Hell."

Reid stiffened yet refused to comment, pressing his lips into a thin line. I won't scream, I won't scream, I won't scream…

Foyet walked around his chair until he was in front of him. He peered close to his face, brown eyes locking on hazel ones. "Are you scared?" Reid didn't answer as he refused to let his gaze waver. "You should be."

Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream…

Then without warning Foyet plunged the knife into his ribs.

He screamed.

Ta-da! I'm back! Heh, this was supposed to be posted up sooner. My bad :)

Anyways, so welcome to the prologue! This is supposed to give you a taste of what's to come! The next chapter will be the first official chapter and will pick up where "Call Me Lucifer" left off.

So yeah, stuff happens. Feel free to make some guesses ;)

Thank you so much for reading this! It means a lot even if you briefly glimpse at it! I'll post up chapter 1 when I can! :D