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Ten hostages in the bank, three women, five men, and two children. Two unsubs waving guns around and demanding the manager of the bank get them the ten million they’re asking for. The SWAT are stuck in traffic, even with the sirens, and the local PD have one sniper rifle, none of which know how to properly use.
“What do we do, Hotch? If we don’t get them the helicopter, they’re going to kill a kid!” Dave exclaims, frustration clearly building in him. The team have no idea what they can do—they’re out of options.
“We’re not giving them a helicopter-” Hotch starts.
“Then they kill a five-year-old girl! Think. There has to be another way. We can’t be out of options!”
There’s an uncomfortable silence. The SWAT won’t be able to storm fast enough, and they can’t get the helicopter here in the ten minutes they’re asking for. You stand next to Spencer, tapping your foot and looking around. The atmosphere’s tense, rising your anxiety a little. You wipe your hands on your trousers, taking deep breaths and thinking things through. You can’t just storm the building, it’ll cause havoc, but you can’t let a little girl die.
The sniper rifle.
You jog over to the unit chief. “Hotch! I have an idea.” Aaron turns and faces you, tilting his head and gesturing for you to continue. “Do you trust me?”
“I’m sorry?” He asks.
“Do you trust me? This isn’t going to work unless you do,” you ramble, barely getting your words out. After looking around the team, your boss nods and you flood with relief. You run over to the PD cars, finding the sheriff. “Do you have that sniper?”
She nods and turns around, leading you to the back of the van and pulling it out.
“Do you know how to use that thing?” She asks. You nod.
“Absolutely.” You head back to the team. “Okay, when I say, storm the place. Neither have guns on them, so we should be okay.”
“Y/N, what’re you do-” Derek doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you run off, heading to the neighbouring office block. You get to the receptionist, who’s face drops at the sight of the gun. You quickly pull out your FBI badge, showing them.
“FBI. Can I use your roof please? We’re kinda in a tough situation,” you ask politely. The woman, though now a ghostly pale, nods and points to the lifts. You nod in thanks, a small smile on your face as you grab a lift. She gives you the key to get to the top floor, and then opens the door for you to get to the roof. Once up there, you turn your comms on.
“Can you all hear me?” There’s a collection of yes responses. “Good. Okay, I’m lining up the shot now. On my count, storm the place and arrest them.”
“How do you know this is going to work, agent?” Hotch asks with furrowed brows. He doesn’t like the idea of a member of his team doing something reckless.
“Because I do. I asked if you trust me, Hotch. Do you?”
There’s silence. “Yes.”
You reach the edge of the roof, setting the sniper up on a stand and looking through the sight. You shift, making yourself a little more comfortable and moving so you can see the unsubs. There’s a man and a woman, a couple, who want to run away together to escape a few fraud charges.
Five minutes pass before a shot may even be remotely possible.
“Please for the love of God just move to the left a bit,” you mumble as the female appears to be monologuing, telling a sob story no doubt to try and win sympathy points with the negotiators.
“Don’t bring the big man into this, kid,” Rossi scolds and the team have to stifle a laugh. You smile.
“Sorry Rossi,” you apologise. “I have a shot. You guys ready?” There’s a series of affirmations from various people, and your finger finds the trigger. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. Breath in…
You pull the trigger.
The bullet whizzes through at the same moment your team run through the doors, and it hits the duo each in the left shoulder. You got them to line up so it’d get both of them, and force the male to drop the boxcutter he was using to threaten the child. Everyone runs in, arresting the two and checking everyone over, ensuring any injuries are tended to. You smile and head back down, thanking the receptionist on your way out and over to the group.
—•—
“How’d you do it, kid?”
You look up from your phone to see Derek opposite you, leaning against the table between you. The others are crowded around, except for Hotch of course, who’s ordering a variety of coffees for you before the flight back to Quantico.
“Do what?” You ask, putting it to the side and looking at everyone.
“Get the shot. You don’t get sniper training at the BAU,” Spencer informs, “it was removed from the curriculum after being seen as too specialised in the late nineties.”
You nod and ruffle the genius’ hair a little, showing your appreciation for the fact.
“When I was younger, my old man, my brothers, and I used to go hunting,” you start. “I spent a lot of time with them, always trying to prove myself. The others always used a pistol but I was never any good. In fact, I only got used to them when I started training for the FBI.” Everyone leans in a little, listening intently. “I felt a need to prove myself. My dad used to make us have competitions and I was always last. So, I decided if I wasn’t good at using a pistol, maybe something else would suit me more.”
Hotch squeezes in next to Rossi, handing out the cups of coffee and investing himself in your story.
“I started using a bow and arrow. That way at least I could win the long-distance ones, right? So, I practiced. I started with cans, made my way up to smaller wildlife, and then I was shooting birds, deer, you name it. I started winning. Now my old man didn’t like this. He always thought using anything other than a gun was dumb and inefficient. I proved him wrong.”
You lean back, taking a sip of your coffee and looking around the table.
“Hang on, so you learned to use a bow and arrow, how does that work with a sniper rifle?” JJ asks. You smirk.
“They’re pretty much the same thing, one’s just more automated. That was the first time I’ve ever properly used one.”
There’s silence around the table before Derek speaks up.
“This kid’s badass,” he states, causing a ripple of laughter.
“Yeah, remind me to never get on your bad side,” Emily adds.
You smile as Hotch stands, checking his watch.
“Well, let’s go. The jet’s ready.”
You get up and start walking, one thought running through the teams’ minds…
…you’re a fucking badass.