⌊𝕊𝕆𝕄𝔼𝕋ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕀𝕊 𝕎𝔸𝕋ℂℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕐𝕆𝕌⌉

I wrote this only because no one seems to be super interested in this plot that I have made about Mindhunter. So, out of disappointment, I have just opted in to make it a story of my own. Maybe this will convince someone to rp with me, but I have no clue. So, enjoy this story. I might make a second part to it, but I have no clue. It depends on how I’m feeling and if this one gets any recognition to start. I did reuse the short “starter” I wrote out for my other blogs, but the rest of it is new. This is all my work, through and through. I also kind of got a little rushed towards the end so it kinda sucks I guess, but whatever aha. Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNING: Dark themes and mention of murder/violence.

☏

⌊𝕊𝕆𝕄𝔼𝕋ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕀𝕊 𝕎𝔸𝕋ℂℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕐𝕆𝕌⌉

☏

A pen was rapping against a metal table. A table that nonetheless was filthy, despite being cleaned more than a thousand times over. Dents riddled the table from where fists had slammed down in pure outrage. Scratches and scuffs were no less adamant in appearance. The room was dim, a hue of orange and grey wafting through the air as if something unknown was setting the tone. The walls were a brownish grey, adding to the eerie essence that seemed to be consuming the room.

The pen continued to tap, echoing down the halls as the sound ed through an old and dusty vent, bouncing back and forth between walls, and ing by the subtle grunts and groans coming from darkened cells. The fading noise of the pen seemed to rattle some of the habitants, causing small bursts of annoyance in the form of complaints and cursing any erby. However, even with the subtle uproar of complaints, the pen continued to tap, getting louder and louder with each and every ing second, adding to a growing anticipation. Then, suddenly, abruptly,

it stopped.

The room went quiet, and the complaints died down into the night, or what everyone who had not left the facility in such time thought was the night. However, the quiet was only physical. A sudden tension had risen inside of the room that now contained two agents and one criminal. In a certain situation, one could take this scenario as somewhat comedic and turn it into a comic, making the agents seem…like imbeciles.

However, this situation called for something else. Something that a comedian of great talent could not turn into a singular sketch of a comic. All that they could do would be give a conceited look, and move onto the next set.

The criminal, or convict as these two agents liked to say, sat down slowly, his hands clasped together even though he had the freedom to move them. The chains and cuffs had been removed, making it so that all the table could suffer today would be another dent, but not a scratch or scuff. However, this convict didn’t seem violent. If anything, he could be described as a caricature. Maybe someone who is “giant, like a huggable teddy bear”. But, that wasn’t the case. He was giant, but he was not huggable, and a bear would be more inviting.

His demeanor was rather calm, matching the agents. He matched their glances, their breaths, and even the times that they blinked. From the moment he had seen them, he was observing them, just as they were doing to him. It seemed that the room held its breath for a moment, and everything seemed to freeze over with angst and horror before the first words finally let out.

”I’m not sure why you have…summoned me today. However, I’m rather flattered, even if you two aren’t some sort of sick fans who seem to get some sort of adrenaline pump off of meeting me.” The convict's voice was smooth, hitching whenever he wanted to emphasize a word like “pump’ or “flattered”. However, despite his smooth voice, his tone was dark. Something the agents were used to. The agents glanced at each other, sharing a smile of some sort, one which was conceited and one which was nothing but true amusement.

”Whatever your reasoning is, I don’t think I can share much more about what I’ve done to dig me a deeper hole.” He said, sitting back, his hands still clasped, sitting loosely in his lap. Another look was shared between the agents, more subtle now, and more like a side glance. However, the one agent was still amused. A tape recorder was sitting on the table, a mic attached to it and perked up by a flimsy stand. The recorder had been initially ignored for the fact of the eerie tension that hung thick in the air, as if the particles were made of molasses.

A hand reached forward, and the noise of one clearing their throat sounded for a moment as the hand proceeded to press down on ‘record’, the subtle whirr of the recorder bussing through the room, breaking its way through the tension to the relief of the occupants. The agent took a deep breath, sitting back and relaxing just as the convict had.

”Don’t worry, this can’t be used against you.” They said, their amused smile still apparent on their expression. “We just want to know your story on it all. Your emotions, your life…your reasons. This is nothing but a chat between three people who could have been friends…if you weren’t in here.”

The convict smiled slightly, his interest clearly piqued, but it didn’t show much on his face. “Really?” He said, a slight chuckle escaping him as he spoke. He let out a sharp burst of air through his nose, turning his chin to the door. “Why?”

The agent stared at him, unblinking for a moment as their smile seemed to grow. Maybe out of more amusement, or maybe out of habit. They leaned forward, pushing the mic towards the convict gently, the friction echoing through the room for a brief moment.

”Because why not?”

Another silence filled the room, mockingly. The convict stared for a moment, in disbelief. His previous amusement had completely faded away from his expression, his demeanor changing from complicitly interested, to showing nothing at all. “Because…why not?” He repeated, his words moving slowly. He sounded rather astonished, or offended. It was hard to tell, but that’s how it went with most of these interviews: it was hard to tell anything.

The agents just stared at him, allowing the silence to creep in whenever it pleased. The one agent still had the subtle look of happiness, and the other looked simply displeased with his being there. The convict took a deep breath, as if deciding in the long inhale if he would entertain this pure…lunatic behavior. His chin turned towards the door once more, his hands squeezing together rather than being relaxed.

After a moment of silence, the one agent finally spoke again, her voice calm as ever. “Yes. You heard me right…Mickey? That’s your name, right? Is it ok if we call you that?” She said, her words matching the pace of his, as if she were trying to show that this wasn’t to be rushed. The convict said nothing in return, only giving his cold stare at the two agents who were still calm and collected.

She let out a short huff at the convicts' incompliance, her smile turning upwards once more. She leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands as he did. “I feel that you’re a little uptight, Mickey. There’s no need to be. This is just a conversation, as I said before. You can’t be convicted any further than you already have been.” She said, giving a glance of agreement towards her partner.

She looked back at the convict, raising her brows for a moment. It was usual for someone of such high crime to not say a word. They felt “too cool for school” in some way. They thought they were better than anything and everything, often comparing themselves to some sort of deity. Mickey was no different. “Would it help if you knew our names? Of course, you know that I’m Agent Williams, and that this is Agent Ford, but it is news to you when it comes to our first names.” She suggested. However, despite her mild effort, she got no response. She only received the same cold and unassuming stare from him that she had been given for the past few minutes now.

A sigh escaped her lips suddenly, and she reached forward from her comfortable position, grabbing a folder and pulling it in front of her. She flipped open the off-white cover, a piece of paper sticking to it for a moment as the static tried to hide it. After she had laid the folder flat on the table, she looked back up at Mickey as if she was comparing him.

”Hm.” She mumbled, looking back down at the folder, flipping through pages. “You know, you don’t seem like the Mickey I have on file here. Someone who could’ve taken the lives of nine innocent people. Women.” She said, a look of disbelief washing over her for a moment. However, her acting still failed to draw a reaction from the convict who was still staring, letting the silence take the room just as the agents had before. She shared another glance with Agent Ford, an obvious look of annoyance sprawled on the agent's face. It only amused Cali more. Her partner was rather impatient, especially when he was so used to such “juicy” responses.

”Well, I’m actually starting to wonder if you even did it all. I mean, you seem pretty calm. Do you think he could do anything like this…folder says?” She said, looking at Ford for a response. He looked at her as if he had come out of a state of disorientation, but he shook his head. “No. He seems too…pansy.” He said with a shrug, causing the both of them to smile. They looked at the convict once more, their smiles fading as they noticed the sudden look of rage on their interviewees face. “Oh, oh, we didn’t mean to upset you. We just, well, I don’t know. We’re just looking at a possible alternative. Maybe you aren’t the right person to talk to about this.” Ford said, taking over Cali’s position to talk for a brief moment before the convict finally spoke.

”How can you look at me and doubt what I can do?” He said, abruptly. The silence backed out of the room suddenly, a buzz of anticipation filling its place. He scoffed suddenly, setting his palms face down and flat on his thighs. “Can you even call yourself ‘FBI’ if you even assume that?” He continued, looking at them in complete disbelief. “Of course I did that. I did it all.” He said, looking at the mic. He leaned in slightly, his mouth right in front of the microphone. “I did do it.” He said, his voice pointed. He made sure to enunciate each word sharply and perfectly, making it clear for anyone who would listen to the tape.

He did do it.

He leaned back again, his back hitting the chair rather roughly, a small huff leaving him as if he hadn't meant to do that. “That’s good to know.” Cali said, “It makes it easier to spread your fame. I mean, look at you. Years and years, your name in the paper. On the radio. On the streets. That’s impressive. God, I can’t imagine being around during the time…” she paused for a moment, looking at a piece of paper. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes squinting just slightly. “the time that the ‘Graveknapper’ was out there.” She said, cringing just slightly. “That’s a bit of a misleading name, isn’t it? Also just…generic. I would have thought it was a new movie coming out. Not you wreaking havoc on nine innocent women.” She nodded, hearing a laugh from the convict. However, it wasn’t out of amusement, but out of anger.

”They weren’t innocent. They were girls like you. Manipulative. Trying to get me to do things that I would never want to do. They were nothing but guilty.” He said, nodding. He folded his arms, his head still moving up and down as he agreed with himself. “More guilty than me. I did the world a favor. But what do I get in return? I’m locked up, not all of the other girls out there just like ‘em.” He said, finality creeping into his tone as he locked eyes with Cali. “Just like you.” He added, a small smile showing for a brief moment. “Why did they send you, of all people? Aren’t there other guys in this profession? Isn’t it a little unprofessional to send you, knowing my history? What I did; how I did it?” He questioned fervently, as if thinking he had just turned the tables of the interview on her. Ford sat up a little bit, a hint of worry showing from the furrow of his brows. However, there was no cause for concern.

Cali just let out a breathy laugh. Short, mocking, and willing to move on. She continued to look through the folder as she spoke. “Do I look like I am scared of you?” She said, pulling out some photographs and sprawling them on the table. She looked at him, pushing the photographs towards him just as she did with the microphone. “I have nothing to be afraid of. If I did, you would still be the Graveknapper. However, you’re just…here now. A strip of numbers. That’s who you are, Mickey. Nothing more, nothing less.” She said, looking at the photographs immediately after she had stopped her small monologue. “You recognize them? Your victims?” She said, looking up at the convict, her tone suggesting that they moved on. Ford was able to relax, leaning back again as he observed. He was there for one reason only: to determine if Cali was fit for a job. In this case, profiling a criminal. So far, she seemed unbalanced enough to meet the criteria, but only her future would show her success.

The convict watched Cali, seething. He was chewing at the nonexistent bit to do something to her, but she was right despite his efforts of denying it. He looked down at the photos then, giving a conceited nod. “I do…the best that I can.” He said, looking at Cali, his annoyance still apparent. He was sitting sideways now. A sign that he was trying to guard himself, make himself smaller in some manner. He was trying to get away from the situation subconsciously.

”Yeah, they’re a little hard to recognize after what you did to them, eh?” She said, pulling the photographs back to her and putting them back in the folder. “Do you know why you did that to them? I mean, most people like you don’t go to the extent of making them unrecognizable. Are you some type of new breed, Mickey? Were you trying to break free from the chains of normality, if that’s how you want to put it?” The convict watched her compile the folder to its original structure, his eyes focused on the movement before he finally looked at her once more.

Cali looked at the folder once more just as he had looked at her, setting it aside. She clasped her hands and set them on the table. “I mean, that just seems unreasonably cruel, don’t you agree? Why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? Why are you…so different?” She asked, her questions seemingly trying to glorify him in some manner. She sounded genuinely interested, like some sort of sick fangirl.

The convict watched her, his gaze unmoving for what seemed like an eternity. However, it was evident that in his gaze, something was breaking. His sense of security. The wall he had put up in order to ignore what he had done. His attempt to turn a new leaf and not be who everyone knew he was. He lowered his eyes then, folding his hands in his lap, picking at the skin on his nail beds. “I just thought they looked better that way.” He said, the silence from earlier filling the room once more. The anticipation had left; a clear signifier that the conversation was over.

Cali’s amused look had faded throughout the conversation, and now, there was nothing left of that amusement. The only look on her face was professionalism. Her facade of interest and happiness had left with the anticipation, and the room was heavy once more. She turned off the tape recorder, pulling the microphone back towards her. Ford pulled out a briefcase and began to put everything away, including the folder. The convict watched for a moment, eyeing the folder as it disappeared into the rectangular briefcase. Then, his eyes turned back towards his hands. Cali watched for a moment longer before standing, Ford following in suit. “Thank you for your time, Mickey.” She said, bluntly.

She straightened her clothes before walking out, the door to the gloomy room creaking loudly as it swung open. The iridescent light flooded the room for a brief moment, showing more features on the convict's face. Nothing was notable, besides a sickening look he gave as the room emptied and the door closed. A look of content.

The agents walked down the echoing halls, mutters coming from the same convicts. Their shows tapped the plastic tiles on the floor, and soon enough, they were outside again. It was midday, the sun shining as brightly as it could, despite the scenario they had just walked out of. They made their way to a black car. It was nothing extravagant, but it was nicer than what the average joe had at the time. Cali walked to the enger side, putting her hand on the handle for a moment as she looked over at her partner. “That one was easy. There was nothing there.” She said, shaking her head in slight annoyance. “He said nothing helpful. Everything we’ve heard before came out of his mouth. ‘I wanted to be different’.” She scoffed, opening the door and sitting down roughly.

Ford got in after her, not reacting much to her discontent. “You got what we needed out of him. That’s what matters. Sometimes, they’re just too smug to…explain. So getting what we did was good enough.” He said, a reassuring nod being sent her way. “You did well, especially when he came after you. I’ve never had someone say something back to them. So that was new.” He said. He was rather carefree. Nothing bothered him, no matter what it was. Cali was similar, but she had a past that had caused a festering anger. The difference between the two of them was that he didn’t care what they did, but she wasn’t scared of what they could do. All of the threats, the needless comments, the stupid words that left their pathetic mouths meant nothing to her as she knew they could do nothing. Not now, at least.

Cali sighed, pulling her seatbelt over her chest and snapping it down into place. “Well, I’m glad you’re pleased, Holden. I thought you were bored.” She nodded, looking at him as he started the car. Holden smiled softly, shaking his head. “Only because it was you speaking and not me.” He said, backing the car out of its parking space before looking ahead again, driving towards the exit. “Also, who said we were on a first name basis now?” He said, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. Cali smiled just slightly before putting her shades on, taking a deep breath. “Because we’re partners now. That’s the most I’ve heard you praise someone after an interview.” She said, tipping her sunglasses down for a moment as she looked at him.

Holden stared at her for a moment before looking away, watching as the gate clerk fiddled around with countless buttons in order to make the mundane gate move out of their way. He looked ahead after it had moved before shrugging, “Ok…” He said, nodding for a moment before driving forwards and out. “Ok.” Cali repeated, reaching forward and turning on the radio.

”You don’t mind, do you?”

𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤-𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 ℍ𝕚𝕡

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“𝕀𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖”

                                   “𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕦𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕦𝕡”

“𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣”

“𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕦𝕡”

“𝕋𝕨𝕠-𝕗𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕝”

                                      “𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕒 𝕓𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕗 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕣”

“ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕣”

“ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖”

-𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡⚗