Aaron Hotchner’s office was quiet.
Probably because Vice had her hearing aid turned all the way. She liked to do that sometimes, just to remember how to keep her senses strong without the reliance of hearing.
There had been a time in her life, when she couldn’t hear at all, when she’d had to only rely on reading lips and feeling the tremors in the ground to tell who was coming. Or maybe the occasional sign language speaker.
Those days were long gone now.
Vice glanced at her new badge. It was leather with an FBI logo and folded open to a clear plastic display.
SSA S. Vice.
The name was hers, and so was that cold face. But it wasn’t her choice nor her destiny.
Well, at least she wasn’t put in the godforsaken CIA.
Vice sighed, feeling a shift in the ground. A hand waved in front of her.
She turned up her hearing aid.
“You weren’t listening,” Erin Strauss said with distaste. “Agent Vice, this is critical. You can’t just turn your hearing aids down every time you don’t want to hear what someone is saying.”
“You were just lecturing me, Erin. I could tell that even though I couldn’t hear you.” Vice rolled her eyes. “Besides, how many times are we going to go through this?”
“A hundred times, if it means that you finally get it through that thick skull of yours.” Strauss said pointedly.
“My, oh, my, is that how you talk to your employees Section Chief?” Vice snarked. “I might just have to file a complaint to HR.”
“As if,” Erin rolled her eyes. Vice glanced at Aaron Hotchner. Her new boss.
“Do you have something to say?” She said with another round of eye rolling. “If not, just give me the basic details and let me be on my way.”
Aaron Hotchner leaned forward.
“You are not allowed to carry a gun,” Aaron started. “Nor will you be in the field.”
“WHAT?!” Vice screeched, so hard that her ears rang through the hearing aids. “But I need to be in the field. I’m trained for the field! And the gun is for self defense!”
Aaron Hotchner winced at her loud tone. “You are not cleared psychologically to go into the field. And a gun is non-negotiable.”
“You-!” Vice snarled. “Fuck this!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Si-” Erin started, Vice whipped around sharply.
“Do not call me that!” She bit. Erin flinched at her tone, taking a step back.
It seemed that after all these years, Erin Strauss still thought of her as a threat.
Which she was, but she had supposed that after so many years they would think of her as less of a threat.
“Whatever.” Vice said, standing up. “Its not like I get a say in this.”
She grabbed her leather purse, throwing it over her shoulder like a man would to his duffle bag. Vice stepped past Erin Strauss, her intimidating aura made a taller more authoritative figure stiffen. Her shoulder brushed with Erin’s forearm, pushing the woman slightly.
An act of power, Monsieur would say.
“Agent Vice! You can’t just leave if you don’t like the rules,” Aaron Hotchner’s voice boomed after her. “How do you expect us to send you, or even take you seriously…” His voice died down, as Vice turned her hearing aids down again.
Fuck him, she thought as she raised her hand and threw a blood red and manicured finger at him as she walked away.
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: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Raven and Armando's under cover show signs of paying off and Raven's concerns for Armando peak ever so slightly.
: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: Hey guys!! So, school started back and it's been kicking my ass, but I finally got a moment to upload another part for Vice. I am so so sorry I've been gone for so long, but I'll try to do better.
Blood splattered across the sandy ground as Armando's fist connected once again with the sleaze's face. The fight was almost unfair in all honesty. Sure, the sleaze put up a decent fight, but he was no match for the man who was raised as a weapon. It didn't take Armando too long to get the man down to the ground, shirt collar balled up in his hand, the other repeatedly flying at his face. The goons around them yelled for their underboss to get up and fight back but none interfered, at least there was a bit of honor among them.
They were letting the men shoot a fair one. Mono e mono.
Raven was still playing the role of a woman who was protected by a ruthless man, so she had to act as if this had no effect on her. Like she didn't want to call for Armando to let go of him. Part of her has honestly turned the fuck on watching him manhandle someone simply for disrespecting her, but the other half didn't exactly like to see him behave like this. She was scared taking this action would cause him to regress somehow. Slide back into his violent ways, when answering with your fist was the only correct answer. He'd come so far from that.
Raven looked past Armando's shoulder to see the bloody face Armando had created. "Okay, baby. Drop 'em. I think he's learned his lesson." Raven spoke easily. She glanced at her nails as Armando somehow found it in him to release the poor guy. However, he didn't let the opportunity pass to add the last bit of disrespect. Wiping off his bloody fist on the sleaze bag's shirt. "Now, all of this could have been avoided if someone would have answered our question earlier. " Her voice was light, almost taunting as she spoke glancing at the crowd as she handed Armando his gun back. "Now, can someone please take us to your boss?" She smiled sweetly.
They walked hand in hand through the industrial style building. Being led by some of the goons that were previously outside rooting on the fight they'd witnessed. The sleaze bag had disappeared into the building before them, he'd actually been the one to give the green light to introduce them to their target. Raven stole glances at Armando, her long blonde hair swayed along with her hips as they walked. Her smaller hand tightened around his larger one, a way to assess if he was okay following what just happened. He looked over to her, eyes dark and stricken before he shot her the smallest smirk.
He was fine.
Hell, he probably even enjoyed letting lose. Raven returned the smallest head nod to communicate with him before they both steadied their gazes on the figure that was coming closer into their view. "And who the fuck is bold enough to step on to my property and demand to see me?" It was like he appeared out of the darkness despite the inside of this area being well let.
Well, if you could call it that. Gray floors and walls. Boxes stacked up along the walls containing god knows what, and lights that hung from the ceiling to illuminate the area. It was mundane within-- whatever the hell this was. Nigel stood out in it, his Versace shirt was loud and flamboyant, offset by his dark pants and shoes. The subtle shine of his patten leather shoes and the little gold chain around his neck resembled the one Armando wore. The one that was dangling over her face last night.
She almost laughed thinking about how they woke up again just as the sun was rising, she'd grabbed him by that chain like it was a leashed and it sent him flying into a bit of a lustful craze. They'd just fallen asleep from that before they were discovered. "A man who wants to do business." Armando rasped. His tone even and matter of fact, as if he didn't care who he offended. "Well, you wanted my attention. You got it, now make it worth my time."
As if being born deaf and being a professional criminal wasn't enough, she is being placed in the fucking BAU of the fucking FBI of all the places in the world.
The problem problems?
The Director, Erin Strauss nor Aaron Hotchner want her.
She's being monitored by the CIA
Vice is on hitlist, shoot on sight by her past acquaintances
She happens to have self destructive behavior and will put a bullet into herself
Agent Vice is not fond of Spencer Reid at all.
Under the problems that she faces now, along with the fact that she isn't even allowed in the field (Aaron Hotchner does not trust her with her own life), Vice can only do two thing:
Play nice and stay alive
Or
Being a fucking bitch to Spencer Reid for entertainment.
Spencer Reid was not a messy man. Nor was he a dirty man.
But that morning in that January morning he nearly had a heart attack when he saw that his desk had such disarray on it.
Papers were scattered, his favourite mug was toppled over, pens were opened and there were lots and lots and lots of scribbles on his notepad which was in fact half used. Not to mention the used notes pad paper had been scrunched up and discarded on his chair.
Spencer practically ran to his desk, which caused his hot burning coffee to spill over onto his hand, burning him so bad that he dropped the cup and watched as his 8 dollar coffee spilled over the FBI floor.
“No, no, no, no.” The grief in his voice was painful. Spencer looked around his space with mournful eyes. “Who did this?”
“Spencer!” Penelope’s high worrying tone made him jump. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” He said, his hand still throbbing from the burn. “Someone trashed my desk.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Penelope asked, she touched his shoulder for reassurance. Her eyes fell to his wet red hand. “Oh, OH, Spencer your hand! We need to put something on that!”
She grabbed his arm, moving him away from the disaster of a desk.
But Spencer didn’t move, he couldn’t look away from the - well, the everything. His eyes fell to the scribbled notepads. He reached down and grabbed one and unfolded it.
“Is that a pig?!” Penelope’s half disgusted half curious voice piped up.
And sure as hell it was.
There were multiple ugly round clumsy drawings of pigs across in the paper. Each of them a different colour matching the opened pens on Spencer’s table. But the worst part was that under each one was a different saying such as: ‘this piggy is ready for slaughter,’ ‘this little piggy just killed its child,’ ‘this piggy is wants to go to the big red barn,’ ‘this little piggy is very, very naive.’
“What the hell,” Spencer breathed. “What sort of psychopath did this?”
“That would be our new agent,” JJ appeared beside Penelope, her face very, very sour. “She’s… something.”
Spencer whipped his head around. “A new agent? Since when?”
“Since last night, apparently.” JJ pursed her lips. “Some weird transfer thing that Strauss pulled.”
“Like a spy? To keep an eye on us?” Penelope’s eyebrows drew together. “Is she questioning Hotch’s authority again?”
“I hope not,” JJ said, as she took a long sip of her coffee. “Anyways, this new agent is young and somewhat rude, honestly.”
“Why?” Spencer’s voice was hoarse. He was still processing the ‘new agent’ part.
“She ignored me while I tried to introduce myself to her! I mean, if you’re going to work here, at least have some empathy, right?
“Of course!” Penelope agreed. “Do we know anything about her yet? Do I need to hack into the FBI files?”
“No hacking,” Hotch said gruffly, passing by Spencer’s desk. He had a stack of files in his hand. “We have a case. Spencer, call a janitor and please do something about that burn.”
“What burn?” JJ said, scanning him. Her eyes widened in saucers when she saw the burn. “Spencer! Why didn't you tell me about the burn? Let’s get you bandaged up, Pen, can you call the janitor?”
“Yup!” Penelope shot her a thumbs up while JJ steered Spencer away from his desk.
While JJ was busy with leading him to the first-aid kit and Penelope calling the janitor, Spencer took one last look at the pig draws before pocketing it and swearing hell on this supposed new ‘agent.’
*****
Her fingers were ink stained.
Spencer could see the colour all over her pruned fingers, like she’d washed them over and over trying to make the evidence of her crime go away.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her fingers in the first place either way. They just kept on drifting back: once to look at the pen stains, then to look at the long wine coloured acrylics or just to look at the missing ring finger on her left hand along with the long scar on the pinkie next to it.
Spencer wasn’t accustomed to change but he had always adjusted to it. He had adjusted when Elle left, when Emily joined, and the same with when Gideon left and Rossi replaced him.
But this new agent wasn’t like them.
Spencer could tell the difference between her and everyone else almost immediately.
Her dark siren-like eyes that had nothing but ennui in them, the way her glossy red lips were tugged to one side as she was reading the case file, her ears were stacked with earrings but the hearing aid was clear as day to any of them. She had her short black hair in a blowout with fluffy curtain bangs and her brown skin was flushed pink.
Even if she was wearing a red sweater and black dress pants and huge high heels that gave her so much height to him she was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
“Alright everyone,” Hotch said, standing up. “Before JJ presents the case, I would like to introduce to you, Agent Vice from the White Collar Crime unit who will be joining us from now on.”
Vice didn’t even acknowledge them. She just kept skipping through the case file.
Rude, Spencer thought, disdainfully. Out of the corner of his eye, Rossi and JJ exchanged glances.
What followed was the most exhausted sigh Hotch had ever produced before he swung his hand in front of her to redirect her attention.
Spencer watched as Vice pursed her lips and closed her eyes in annoyance before readjusting the volume on her hearing aid.
“Yes?” Her voice was straightforward and cold.
“I was introducing you to the team,” Hotch said, as if he knew she would do this. “Will you keep your hearing aids on for the rest of the briefing?”
“No.” Vice said shortly. “I’ve already briefed myself with this case… and this team. I will see you on the plane.”
The rest of the BAU watched as Vice picked her things up and left. As she passed by Spencer, he caught a whiff of something on her that made his blood run cold.
Alcohol.
*****
Vice went to a bar last night.
She drank, and drank and drank until her voice was hoarse. Somehow she managed to get back to her apartment and sleep (of course she passed out on the bathroom floor but who cares).
Even after she showered the following morning, she could still smell the alcohol on her after the perfume. Vice guessed it was coming out of her pores or something; hangovers made you think differently.
So what if Vice wasn’t her normal hot, didn’t give a damn self? She could never not be chaotic, right?
So in celebration of still being her chaotic self she had trashed some guys' desks. She had to place her anger of not being allowed in the field somewhere, why not make a boring desk exciting for once?
After all, if someone was reading Crime and Punishment for fun in Russian, they were possibly the boringest person ever to her.
And Vice didn’t like boring.
Besides, those piggies gave the desk character.
But of course, this guy, namely Doctor Spencer Reid, did not in fact agree with her.
How would he? He had doe eyes that were filled with soft anger -the kind that didn’t threaten anyone- pursed lips that looked like he was going to sprout a fact at any time. His brown messy hair that he kept on tucking behind his ears. He was wearing a purple shirt and blue jeans and carried a soft looking cardigan around.
He was just another sheep that couldn’t even try to be a wolf.
Vice huffed, crossing her legs. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t her talent on a man who looked like he still got the boys regular at the barbershop.
To top it all off, Vice, who was sitting in the jet with the rest of the BAU team, could literally feel Doctor Spencer Reid staring at her.
For someone who couldn’t hear naturally, she’d always been keen on her other senses. Even if it also included intuition.
So she knew that if she turned back right now Vice would see Doctor Spencer Reid staring at her with his doe eyes.
She considered for a full minute if she should take out her brass knuckles from her leather purse and flex them in front of him to back him off. Or she could just punch him with them.
“In most cases, Vice means immoral or depraved behaviour, or attributed to wickedness or sin.” Doctor Spencer Reid spoke out loud. Vice felt the plane quiet down to almost no sound whatsoever.
Vice’s eyes darted to him, narrowing. “In most cases?”
“It can also mean illegal activities, like prostitution or drug trafficking.” He continued. “What sort of person would name their kid that?”
“Spencer,” JJ breathed. “That’s so ru-.”
Vice held her hand up to stop her. She smiled, predatoryily. “Thank you for taking the liberty to explain my own name to me, Doctor. But Vice is an old family name that my uncle chose for me. Not my parents.”
“If Vice is a family name then that would mean you are English.” Spencer countered. “You don’t look English.”
“Reid, what the hell.” Derek shot up, at the same time Hotch said, “Reid. That’s highly inappropriate."
“And you don’t look like an uptight little white boy virgin at first glance.” Vice said leaning forward, her blood like nails grazed the table, leaving scratches. “Guess, we both aren’t what we look like.”
“I-I’m not uptight,” the Doctor stuttered, flustered. “Nor am I a virgin.”
“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?” Vice mocked. “You wouldn’t be stuttering like that if you were telling the truth.”
“Kid,” Rossi laughed, “She got you good.”
“Rossi!” Vice felt a bit of glee as she watched Spencer’s face go red as he stared at the aged profiler.
Maybe the Doctor might not be as boring as she had thought. Even if he looked like a depressed meerkat.
Hi Readers!!!
I know that took soo much time writing this and it isn't even that long (i know, im crying from the inside) but like listen, the next chapter will in fact be longer and more interesting.
This is kind of a filler/ first introduction chapter focus, which is why its like this but the next chapter will focus more on the case and Vice/Spencer dynamics and Vice overall.
Thank you for your patience.
Also: shout out to @thecrimsonfog, @jjellecubed and obv @caseyrobinson for literally HELPING me get the motivation to write this. Also should I post this on Wattpad?
~Elsya
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Vice: I want to die
Hotch: It would save me so much paperwork
*They look at each other*
Vice: I know a really nice mountain
Hotch: I have some guns
Rossi and Erin watching them.
Rossi: They always do this
Erin: This is Jason’s fault. He forgot to take his depression from this place.
Rossi: No, he forgot to take his melodramatic from this place.
: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Tensions are still high between Raven and Armando but will a turn in events and some insight from Mike shake some things up for them.
: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: Hey friends!! First things first, thanks for all the love and support! Also, this one is kinda long / filler because I need things to start shaking and moving in part 3. ENJOY!
Armando and Raven found themselves staring daggers at each other just outside of Rita's office. They sat on opposite couches looking like mirrors of the other.
Arms crossed, posture tense, brows furrowed.
After hearing about the little mishap, Rita called in the head of Vice. Initially it was thought to be an argument bound to happen on the basis of professional courtesy and letting someone know about any investigations being held in case something like this were to happen; but, from the looks of it their conversation was rather calm.
The tension was coming from outside the office. "So, you're the guy who was on the run, huh? How'd you manage to get in here, I thought you were highly dangerous." She spoke the last statement with a taunting tone. "Still highly dangerous. You wanna test that? Be my guest." A smirk present on his face, which only caused Raven to rise right along with him.
"Yo, this is your last time threatening me, Rico Sauve." She held to fingers up pointing in the face of the male in front of her. "No, you're tough right, you wanted to test me so let's test it." Armando was not the type to hit a woman, but honestly something about Raven set a fire off inside of him. She reminded him way too much of someone, it was insufferable.
"Damn Mike, she act like you." Marcus laughed while the two older men approached the bickering pair. "Well hell, I mean they both act like you. You sure you didn't have another kid with a fairy in Never Never Land or something? I mean, you already got the witch."
No matter what, Marcus would not let go of reminding everyone that Mike got tangeled up with that evil ass witch.
Raven's head jerked back. She quickly glanced between the two of them. She'd known that Armando was a fugitive, but no one filled her in on the fact that he was Mike's son. "Well, that makes sense. He's a drug dealer and you dress like one." She began to laugh before she could fully finish the statement.
Marcus began to laugh at the younger woman's words as well. Extending his hand for a high five that she cheerfully returned. When he glanced at Mike seeing his blank expression, he began to cough as if he wasn't just having a good ole chuckle. "I'm not a drug dealer." Armando's voice this time was tamer but there was still an edge to it.
A short silence fell between the four of them before Rita and Mario, the head of vice exited the office. "Rae, you're going to be working with AMMO for a while."
"What?!" Both her and Armando shouted looking at the heads of their teams. "Mario, I'm not going with them-- I wanna stay on vice." "And you are still on Vice, Raven. Rita and I were talking, and it looks like we've been on to the same guy for a while now. He's got his hands in all types of shit that we've had mutual investigations into. So, you'll be working together instead of separately." Armando and Raven looked at each other before looking back at those in front of them.
"No." They spoke in stubborn unison.
Raven begrudgingly trudged up the path to the private plane they were boarding. Not only had she still been placed with AMMO but now they were on their way to Puerto Rico. From what they could put together, plus a few tips from a reliable source, they were certain their guy would be there, and he had something big coming.
Raven and Armando hadn't spoken to each other since their argument at the station. Ever since she'd call him a drug dealer, he'd been full blown ignoring her and quieter than normal. She kinda missed arguing with him.
"Hey, Raven." Mike tipped his head to her, motioning for he to sit beside him for the flight. This plane, or rather jet was big enough for everyone to have their own space, so why did he want her so close?
Nevertheless, she sat beside him. Soon, they were taking off.
"Hey, so uh. I know you and Armando aren't the best of friends, but can you not call him a drug dealer?" His voice was low while they spoke, by now everyone had fallen asleep. She also had a feeling that he was about to tell her something he didn't want anyone else to hear.
"I mean, he can be a little rough around the edges. But if we're being honest, hell.. So can you." He shifted in his seat, fully turning his attention to her. "He's trying, you know. He didn't have the best upbringing, got dealt a really shitty hand at life. I wasn't any help; his mother wasn't either. So, just cut 'em a little slack. I think if you two chilled out, you'd see you have more in common than not."
With that, Mike turned forward, laying his head back to rest his eyes. "Just think about it." And that's exactly what she did for the remainder of the flight, if Armando would be cool with her, she'd be cool with him.
