𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 ♔ spencer ried

jupiter

Aphrodite knew several things at the moment she realized that she was being kidnapped;

Her loyal personal assistant was dead.

She was being kidnapped by someone with a previous association with her organization who might intend to harm her.

Most importantly, there was no way of telling where she was. Aphrodite had been to D.C before, but she did not recognize the dirt paths and empty fields. For all, she knew they were in another state.

She had a gun pointed at her. The man's arm that was not on the wheel was resting on the console, aimed straight at her. "No questions. Do what I say or else your little friend will never see any medical attention." Aphrodite nodded, the pressure was on. This wasn't the first time that this had happened. It was the first time she witnessed the casualties of it.

A plan had started brewing as soon as the gun had been pulled on them, but for her to act on it she would need time. The problem was that Rita did not have the time that she would have liked. Rita had two bullet wounds, one below her shoulder and one on her thigh, and she was far from conscious.

Rita knew the risks of the job, at least now she would be able to see her wife.

Aphrodite would need to play it calm and appeal to the kidnapper's needs and wishes. Waiting was not her strong suit but if she could time it right then she might be able to save them both.

There was always a better way than the plan that seemed the most obvious.

Rita was in the left window seat, sitting in a crooked way with her head uncomfortably positioned. The bleeding bullet wound between her chest and shoulder was spreading rapidly. She didn't know if she could be saved in time. Even if Aphrodite would be able to get away from the kidnapper there was still the troubling problem that there was completely nothing around. No hospitals or homes.

The car sped up, in a result the yellow fields became blurs. The next thing that Aphrodite would need to do was determine where in the world she was. Aphrodite had never been out of the city except once, and that was a time that she did not want to remember sober. In a wave of adrenaline, Aphrodite quickly scooted forward in her seat, unclipping the seat belt as she did so. The noise of the gun going off filled her ears.

Aphrodite carefully slid off her shoe with her other foot, so quickly that the driver did not notice. She managed to remove her black sock, picking it up from the floor. The car was going somewhere over 115mph. Every action had to be calculated. With her hands, she began to stretch out the sock.

The smell of Rita's blood filled her senses. By far this was not the first time she had seen something like this. Most of the time it was done by her own hand. Yet there was something to be said about the rush of fear in her veins. She had not felt this rush since her father had died.

Once the sock was stretched to a foot long Aphrodite was prepared. She took one final glance at Rita. She lunged forwards, pulling the sock over his neck, and she yanked backward with all of her strength. It might as well have been a rope she was using. Aphrodite strained the sock against his neck. The man lashed out, his arms thrashing.  The car lost control and the man was losing his senses. It flung itself from the road and began speeding into the field. 

As an act of retaliation, the man reached out at the steering wheel as he lost his sight. She had been strangled before. Aphrodite understood how desperate you became, how your throat would swell. The only sounds that you would be able to make were choked-out gurgling.

Aphrodite was flung on top of Rita as he yanked the wheel to the right. The thick cloud of dirt swelled around the car so much so that Aphrodite could not see the sky. She had failed. The man, now free from her chokehold, spun around. His face was bright red, his eyes bloodshot. The gun was in her face now. Not Rita's. 

A shot went off, and Aphrodite ducked. The bullet had hit Rita. She lounged forwards at the man. The car was going ballistic. The man's arm flailed as he tried to get a better shot at her. She was on top of him. Aphrodite punched the man in the throat, freeing the gun with her other hand. She now sat, straddled on his lap, gun pressing into his forehead. She did not even give him a chance to move. BANG.

The bullet entered the center of the man's head. She swept her hair out of her eyes quickly. Aphrodite gained control of the vehicle, setting it smoothly to a halt, all while still on the man's lap. She flung the door open of the driver's side and fell out onto her butt. 

A minute passed of her sitting in the tall grass staring up at the car in awe. Was this a sick trick from the FBI? Had they done this to execute her? Was the trust an illusion? She yanked her phone from her pocket, dialing up the first number that came to mind. The phone line rang for a moment before the person on the other side picked up. 

"Dan's cleaning service, how may I help you today?" Followed by silence on her end for a long moment before she spoke quietly into the phone, "It's me."

"What happened?"

"I need you to track my phone, there was an accident."

╰┈➤time passes

Spencer knew that something must have happened to their guest before the other knew. They were silent, waiting in the conference room for the main desk to call them down to the lobby. He checked his phone stupidly for car accidents. He knew something was wrong, yet he did not voice it to the others. Hotch was working in his office, the whole team was busy preparing for their guest.

It felt like an hour passed before they got the call. "Guest for Aaron Hotchner." 

Spencer jumped up from his chair, and the team followed. They waited at the elevator for a few minutes, watching as the numbers went up to their floor. His heart fluttered with anticipation and the doors slowly opened.

She was covered in blood. Valentine Ares was a bloody angel...