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Cachorro	By : hatochiisai Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 11087 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor do I make any financial profit off of writing this story.

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Chapter 2

Spencer Reid stood at the top of the rickety old stairs right outside of the airplane and squinted into the sunlight. He stared down at the little girl, then at the small plane forty yards away; it was about the same size as the BAU’s jet. And at the towering, athletic figure of Arturo Coronado. Like before, he was wearing black boots with a black business suit. His long wavy black hair was neatly pulled back at the base of his neck. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his strong brow. But Reid could feel the burning gaze taking him in. The man raised the megaphone.

“… Your gun, Cachorro.” Reid took a deep breath and drew his weapon. “Empty it.” Reid obeyed, popping out the cylinder and removing the bullets from the chambers. “Throw the gun to your right, the bullets to your left.” Reid did as he was told. “Now throw away your phone and remove your coat.” Reid sighed and pulled off his “library aide thing” as Morgan called it.

“… Now… come to me, Carchorro.”

Fighting back his fear, Reid forced himself to walk down the rickety old set of stairs that had probably come from the old airport that was in quite a dilapidated condition… He reached the bottom and slowly knelt.

“Hi.” He said to the little girl, who blinked at him. “I’m Spencer.”

“… Is my daddy on the plane?” She asked him, and he smiled and nodded.

“Yes he is. Go on up and see him.” And he placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the stairs. Then he stood and watched her go. The pilot was at the door waiting for her.

“Laney!” He gasped, dropping to his knees and holding her close.

“Close the door.” Coronado ordered, and after a moment the door of the plane was closed. Reid could feel hundreds of eyes on him from the windows of the plane, but he felt totally and completely alone…

His heart was pounding and he was sick to his stomach when the man raised his hand and beckoned him forwards. Reid took a deep breath and began to cross the old airstrip, staring down at the grass growing up through the cracks. Glances to his right and left showed heat waves coming off of the concrete, courtesy of the blazing summer sun. Sweat was beginning to form on his forehead, under his arms and in his lower back.

He made his way across the hot airstrip, staring Coronado in the eyes the entire time. As scared as he was, he refused to show it. And he refused to look away. Coronado had his hands clasped before him and he was watching the young man approach with an arrogant smirk. Reid stopped several yards away.

“… What do you want from me, Coronado?” Reid asked, pleased that his voice held firm and steady. The man smirked.

“You will call me ‘Master’, Cachorro.”

“I will do no such thing, and YOU will address me as Dr. Reid, or Agent Reid.” The profiler growled, and the man chuckled. He looked down and shook his head, casually approaching Reid.

“You still have that fire.” He said. When he reached Reid, he looked him in the eye. “I like that.” Reid narrowed his eyes. “I look forward to beating it out of you.” And in a flash, he brought the back of his hand across Reid’s cheek in a resounding CRACK!

Reid spun to the ground, stunned. He groaned as rough hands seized his arms and dragged him off of the hot concrete and to his knees. Slowly, he raised his head. Coronado was holding his hand out to a man standing behind him; the man handed him a riding crop. Reid’s eyes widened.

“N-No…” He gasped, and began to struggle as he was forced to lean forwards.

“This is for leaving.” Coronado said calmly, then raised the crop. Reid closed his eyes as he heard it whistling a path through the air, and then there was a burning trail of fire searing over his back. He arched forwards with a shriek of pain.

On the plane, one woman fought hard to keep her hands steady as she videotaped the brutal beating on her iPhone.

Coronado brought the crop down across Reid’s back over and over again, twenty five times. Then he moved around to stand in front of the young man. The men holding Reid shifted him so that he was bending backwards instead of forwards. Reid whimpered, staring up at the man towering over him.

“And this is for your attitude and disrespect.” And he began to whip his front. Reid cried out and thrashed again as the sensitive skin of his abdomen and chest were lashed, red welts rising. Twenty five times the blows fell. And when it was over, he slumped forwards, gasping and fighting back the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since he realized that Coronado had come for him…

A moment later, he felt soft leather on his chin. Opening his eyes, he saw it was the riding crop. With a whimper, he allowed Coronado to use it to lift his head. The man was smirking down at him. “Seems like your training needs to begin again. We were so close to your first breakthrough when you left… Now we have to start all over…”

Reid’s eyes widened as the men released him, and he fell back onto the burning concrete. He let out a startled scream as it made the burning welts burn even more. The people on the plane watched in sympathetic silence as Reid began to drag himself away, scraping his sensitive skin on the rough, burning ground beneath him.

The tall man in a suit stalked over and reached out with a foot, stepping down on the back of the boy’s neck, pinning him. He was wearing a cruel grin of delight. They watched the boy writhe.

“This… this isn’t right…” One woman gasped. “We can’t just let them do that to him!!!”

“You wanna go out there and try to stop them?” A man snorted, eyeing the assault rifles that the men were carrying.

“We can’t do anything.” Parras said. “Beyond calling for help.” And he pulled out his phone and dialed.

Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner stopped mid sentence when his phone went off in the middle of the profile briefing. The cops all stared as he pulled out his phone and frowned down at the number.

“… Hotchner.” He answered.

“Agent Hotchner, my name is Gerardo Parras, I’m a Federal Air Marshall.”

“… How did you get this number?”

“Agent Reid. He told me to call you.”

“Reid? Why?” Hotch asked, and the officers all watched as the other profilers immediately turned all of their attention onto their leader, looking worried.

“Flight 1724 had to make an emergency landing—“

“Emergency landing?! Define emergency landing! Why?!”

“Radio contact. One of the pilots’ daughters was being held hostage. We were ordered to land. There’s a small private plane off to our left side. They released the girl and are allowing us to leave unharmed. As long as your Agent gave himself up.”

Hotch’s heart was pounding, and the sleeping lion in his chest stirred.

“We’re still on the ground and we’re watching. He’s beating your man, Agent Hotchner. He demanded that we give him ‘cachorro’ and your Agent surrendered himself.” He got no response. “… Agent Hotchner?”

“… Coronado.” The man finally managed to get out, and lion in his chest let out a fearsome roar. The team was now on high alert. Hotch paused only one moment, then surged into action. “JJ, get Garcia on the phone. Reid’s plane was forced down, one of the pilots’ daughters was held hostage. She was released when the plane landed but Reid was forced to give himself up to spare everyone else.”

“Did you say Coronado?!” Morgan blurted, eyes wide.

“The man in charge demanded that they give up ‘Cachorro’.”

“Oh my God…” Prentiss groaned.

“… Aaron. We have a case…” Rossi pointed out, and the cops looked at Hotch. Half looked angry, as if daring him to leave. The others looked sympathetic. Hotch stared at them, then turned back to his phone.

“Sir, I’ll call you back.” And he hung up, then dialed.

In Quantico, a tall man with bleach-blonde hair picked up his phone. “Perry.” He answered.

“Perry, it’s Aaron Hotchner.”

“… Hey Hotch. What’s up?”

“My team is on a case in Arkansas and something has come up. Can you come out here and take over?!”

“… What’s happened?” Perry asked, standing and frowning. For Hotch to be asking this, it HAD to be big.

“Agent Reid has been abducted.”

“… AGAIN?!” Perry blurted, walking out into the bull pen and waving his team up to the conference room. “You gotta shove a GPS tracker up his ass or something!!! What this time?!”

“That incident a month and a half ago… with Arturo Coronado.”

“Oh right! The dude from El Salvador who bought your agent on an online auction?”

“Yes. It’s him.”

“… Go. We’re on our way.”

“Thank you. We’re leaving all the physical evidence here for you with all of our information and our current profile. Garcia will send your TA everything else you need.”

“On it, Hotch. Go after your agent. Call me if you need us.”

“Thanks, Perry.”

Reid grunted as he was kicked over onto his back. Then a rough hand seized him by the neck and jerked him to his feet. Then there were hands all over him. His tattered shirt and tie were ripped away, as were his shoes and mismatching socks. He whimpered as the soles of his feet were burned by the ground. Then, his arms were jerked behind his back and he was marched over to the plane. Once there, he was handed in to more men inside, and then Coronado climbed in. The door was shut, and a few minutes later they were taking off, leaving flight 1724 on the old cracked tarmac.

Still shaking in pain, Reid slowly rolled onto his side and lifted himself up, bracing his weight on his hip and elbows. Then he glared up at Coronado, eyes blazing.

“Let. Me. GO!” He hissed. Coronado sat back in his seat and stared down at him, a look of mild amusement on his face.

“The lesson I just gave you is wearing off already?” The man asked, looking almost delighted. “Come now, Cachorro… are you really a masochist?” He reached out and took Reid’s chin in his fingers and drew his face up. He leaned down. “Your name is Cachorro. And I expect you to respond to it immediately and with the proper actions and attitude. You will not speak until spoken to. You will address me ‘Master’. You do not eat, you do not drink, you do not PISS without my permission.”

Reid’s eyes flashed, and then did something that would have made Morgan proud. He gave a deep snort, gathering mucous in the back of his throat. Then he gave a rough exhale through a half closed throat, hocking it up onto his tongue, letting it mix with saliva. And then he gathered it on the tip of his tongue, seeing the shocked look of realization on Coronado’s face, RIGHT before it was too late. Reid spat the load out at the man. It was a perfect shot. The disgusting slimy mess landed right between his eyes and began to drip down his handsome face.

“Like hell I will…” Reid snarled, struggling with the hands that were suddenly restraining him and dragging him away from Coronado. The man held out a hand and one of the other men on the plane quickly put a handkerchief into it. Coronado mopped the disgusting mixture from his face and then looked down at the boy, eyes burning.

“Your disobedience will only bring you suffering.” Coronado growled, then snapped an order in Spanish. Reid didn’t quite catch it, but the next thing he knew, he was being forced down to the floor on his back and hands were working at his belt.

“No! STOP IT!!!” He shouted, thrashing. “Don’t touch me!!!” His belt was removed, and his pants were dragged down his legs, followed by his boxers. Then he was forced down to the floor and his limbs were dragged away from his body in the empty space between the seats. His wrists and ankles were bound to the frames of the seats and then the men all settled in, staring down at the young man lying spread eagle, naked on the floor.

Coronado smirked down at him, taking in the humiliation in the profiler’s eyes and the embarrassed flush that spread over his face, neck and chest. Reid winced as he felt all those eyes on him and he writhed on the floor, straining against his bonds.

“You may wear clothes once you have earned them, Cachorro.” Coronado said, calmly. Reid stared at him, then turned his head away, facing the wall and closing his eyes. After a bit, the men took up a conversation. Reid couldn’t understand. But he had a sinking feeling that he, or more specifically, his body, was the topic. He could feel their eyes raking over his nude form, especially when they broke into laughter from time to time…

Eventually though, the conversation quieted and Reid slowly drifted to sleep, lulled by the hum of the plane’s engines.

When he awoke, the men were quiet. The cabin was dimly lit, and outside the windows of the plane the sky was dark. He tugged at the ropes binding him, but he had no luck. With a sigh, he rested his head on the floor and closed his eyes against the burn of tears. He wondered how long he was asleep… how far he had been taken… how far behind him the team was… He opened his eyes and stared at his right wrist, then began twisting and tugging. He bit his lower lip, focusing on trying to free his wrist.

He didn’t notice Coronado’s eyes opening and staring at him.

“Tell me, Cachorro…” Came the amused drawl, and Reid jumped and gasped, snapping his head around to stare at the man. “What do you plan to do if you get loose? Jump?” He chuckled. “It’s a long way down, chico.” Reid just stared at the man, eyes burning in defiance. “Ah, don’t look at me like that. We will be landing soon. And then we will begin your training process over again.” He watched the boy’s eyes widen and his breathing pick up.

Within the hour, the plane hand landed. Reid’s wrists and ankles were released and he was jerked to his feet, but then his hands were bound tightly behind his back.

“Now then. I would recommend that you come along quietly.” Coronado chuckled. “If you escape, you will find yourself quite alone and quite naked in a foreign country.” Reid stared up at him, fighting back his feelings of helpless despair. “Of course, I would be fairly amused at the sight of your naked hind end running for the jungle.” Reid winced and lowered his head, staring at the floor. A moment later, he was dragged out of the small plane and shoved into a car. They drove fifteen minutes, and then got out. And Reid stared. They were at a dock. And before them was a horribly familiar yacht.

“No…” He whimpered, trying to back away. The men on either side of him grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the gang plank and on board.

“Take him below.” Coronado said calmly, and walked away. Reid shook terribly as he was dragged down below deck. He knew the path they were taking, and he knew where he would end up. And sure enough, he was guided into the large, black room that was filled with every sexual toy, tool and instrument conceived by man. His eyes immediately darted to the stirrup chair in the corner, and an involuntary shudder ran down his spine as he couldn’t help but remember the hours of sexual torture he had endured in that chair. The man released his hands from the ropes and jerked them over his head, binding them to the length of chain hanging from the ceiling, and then they left him there, naked in the dark.

Reid’s eyes darted around before closing, and finally, he allowed himself to cry.

The team sat in silent horror as they watched the video that a woman had taken with her iPhone. In the video, they watched as Coronado backhanded their youngest colleague to the ground. Then the young man was forced to his knees, his arms held out to either side by the men accompanying Coronado. Garcia began to shake when the whipping began. When Coronado finished with Reid’s back and moved to his chest and stomach, her tears fell.

“Oh God… my poor baby…” She whimpered when Reid collapsed onto the ground and tried to drag himself away, then struggle and writhe when the large man pinned him down with a foot on the back of his neck. Then they watched as Reid was dragged to his feet, and stuffed into the plane. A few moments later, the plane took off.

“Garcia. You have the plane’s ID?”

“Yeah…”

“Track it.”

“Already done. They’re out over the Gulf.”

“What?!” Morgan blurted.

“This guy has nearly two hours on us… I… I’m sorry.”

“Where’s he heading?” Hotch demanded to know. The lion in his chest was going ballistic. It was roaring in fury, pacing back and forth in his chest, clawing at his ribcage which kept it contained, determined to surge forth and reclaim his stolen gazelle

“Not sure...” Garcia responded. She typed as fast as she could. “Could be to Mexico, Cuba, Puerto Rico, I mean… any island in the Caribbean. And… Wait! Coronado’s yacht is in Montego Bay, Jamaica…”

“Then that’s where we’re headed.” Hotch growled, and the team moved.

Reid opened his eyes when the door to the room opened behind him. Light flooded across the room, and he stared at the wall before him where a large square of light was. And framed in it was the shadow of a tall, well built man.

“Good evening, Cachorro.” Coronado drawled. Reid swallowed, steeling himself for the battle he was about to engage in. The door closed. But a moment later he heard the loud, sharp sounds of the man’s boots as he crossed the floor. He twitched when he felt the breaths on the back of his head, and flinched violently when he felt fingers run down his side.

“Don’t touch me!” Reid hissed and Coronado chuckled, tracing the red welts on Reid’s back with a fingertip.

“I will give you the rules one more time, Cachorro.” The man said, beginning to circle the youth. “You will not speak until spoken to. You will call me ‘Master’ and you will treat me as such. You will not do anything without my permission. And of course, food… water… pleasure…” Reid sucked in a breath as the man ran a hand down his chest. “It all comes from my hands, chico. If you ever need anything… every WANT anything… come to me. I am your Master. I will provide you with all you need. I will take care of you as long as you show me the proper loyalty and respect. However, disobedience will be dealt with harshly. And privileges are earned. Such as the right to wear clothes.”

Reid winced as the man ran his eyes down the agent's body. Coronado raised his eyebrows when the boy growled audibly.

“Do not growl… you are not a coyote.” Coronado said, laying a hand on Reid’s cheek. Reid tensed and his eyes flashed, and a fraction of a second later he had lunged and caught the man’s hand in his teeth, biting down viciously.

“AI!!! MADRE DE DIOS!!!” The man howled, jerking his hand away before backhanding Reid, stunning him. A moment later, Reid crashed to the floor with a grunt, then yelped as a strong hand grabbed his hair and began to drag him out of the room, still rambling in an angry mixture of English, Spanish and Portuguese. Reid managed to pick up a word here and there, such as “little devil”, “bastard child” and “little fucker”.

A moment later they were up on deck, and Reid whimpered as he heard voices and laughter around him.

“You want to act like a rabid dog, then you will be treated like one!” The man snapped.

“Oh really? You gonna put Ol’ Yeller down?” Reid snorted. Coronado snarled.

“I just might.” And he flung Reid to the ground. Reid looked up at him with a smirk.

“No you won’t.” He said. “After all the trouble you went to just to get me back, you aren’t gonna kill me.” He tried to stand, but the man kicked him to the ground again.

“And I told you. You will follow the rules or suffer the consequences. And right now, you have lost the privilege to be treated as more than a dog.” He turned and spoke to the men on the deck, and the men began to run about. Reid curled up, trying to hide his nudity, but Coronado kicked him in his side, then shoved him over onto his back and pinned him down with a foot to the chest.

The pair remained like that, staring each other down until a man spoke to Coronado.

“Gracias, Efren.” Coronado said, then seized Reid by the hair and dragged him to the bow of the boat. In the very front, where the port and starboard sides met, a large plastic dog crate had been wedged into place and secured with ropes to the railings. Coronado picked up a chain that was attached to the crate and a black leather collar.

“NO!” Reid snapped, slapping the man’s hands away when he tried to put it on him. “I won’t!” And to the shock of Coronado AND the man’s cronies, for lack of a better word for them, Reid brought his fist crashing across Coronado’s jaw. The man stumbled, and his eyes were wide in shock. But then they hardened and he turned to face Reid. Slowly, the boy began to back away, but he’d only taken three steps before he bumped into the railing. He glanced down at the black waters sparkling under the light of the moon and stars, and the lamps on the boat. He REALLY didn’t want to jump overboard into the middle of the Caribbean buck naked… As much as he hated it, if he wanted to survive he was just going to have to count on his team…

He gasped as a hand closed around his throat and he was hurled down to the deck of the yacht. In the blink of an eye the other men pounced, and Reid was dragged to an on-deck dining table and was pinned down spread eagle on its surface. Coronado stood over him, staring down. Another man ran up and placed something into Coronado’s outstretched hand.

“For the more well behaved slave, I usually use a local… como se dice… anes… Anastasia?”

“Anesthesia, senor.” A man whispered loudly.

“Gracias. Yes. Anesthesia.” Coronado said. “But for your disobedience, you do not get that… courtesy.” And Reid’s eyes widened at the object in the man’s hand. It was a small gold ring. He growled and began to struggle harder, but he couldn’t break free. His eyes widened as Coronado stood at his side and then pinched Reid’s left nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“N-No!” Reid gasped, writhing. “Don’t!!! PLEASE!!!” But a moment later he let out a cry of pain as the ring pierced through his flesh.

“You are pathetic, Cachorro.” Coronado snorted. “Can you at least compose yourself for the other one?”

“O-Other one?!” Reid gasped. “EEYAAAH!!!”

“Apparently not.” Coronado snorted as he pierced the youth’s right nipple. Then he gave a satisfied smirk as he flicked the little golden tag that hung from the little left ring. It was engraved, and simply read ‘CACHORRO’.

He stepped back and watched as the boy was released. Reid rolled off of the table and landed on his hands and knees, but sat back on his heels, curled over and tucking his arms in close to his chest, shivering and whimpering in both pain and humiliation.

“You remove them…” Coronado said calmly. “And I will break your thumbs and then pierce something… much lower.” Reid winced at the idea. Then, the men seized him again and one held him tightly by the hair. Reid grimaced, then whimpered again when he felt the smooth leather wrap around his neck. The collar was buckled at the back, and a small padlock was put on it, leaving Reid unable to do anything to remove it. Then Coronado seized the collar and Reid yelped as he was dragged across the polished deck towards the dog crate. He was flung down before it and with another click, another padlock was snapped shut, linking the metal ring that hung from the front of the collar to the chain that was attached to the dog crate. It was only three feet long, and Reid realized that he would be unable to stand upright with that chain. Slowly, he wedged himself between the crate and the railing of the boat, drawing his knees up to his chest and tucking his head.

“You would be wise to learn and accept your place in the world, Cachorro.”

“My place is at the Bureau.” Reid growled.

“No, Cachorro. Your place in MY world. From now on, that is the only world you exist in.” And the man turned and walked away, the others following. And Reid was left alone to the warm summer night and the cooling breeze, with the sounds of the boat slicing through the water.

The team stood with the Montego Bay Police on the dock, staring at the empty sloop that only hours ago held Coronado’s Yacht, Delfin del Caribe.

“Get Garcia on the phone. Track him.” Hotch growled.

“… Baby Girl, need you to work me a little magic, here. The yacht is gone. Can you find it for me? Hm? Okayyyy… Damn. Thanks for trying… No, mama, it’s not your fault. Just let us know if you get anything. Thanks.” And he hung up, turning to the team.

“No sign of him. I’m guessing he disabled his GPS so we couldn’t track him like we did last time.” Morgan sighed.

“So now what?!” Emily asked, eyes wide.

“We wait.” Hotch growled. “And have Garica keep watch on ports that he may head to. And once he’s been logged, we move.”

“And until then?” Emily asked.

“… There’s nothing we can do but try and find out where he’s taking Reid.” Hotch growled. “And to do that, we profile him.”

“Narcissist.” Emily said immediately. “Wealthy. In his country, he’s a big important figure, probably. He probably grew up like that so he’s always had an elitist attitude. He sees other people as lesser beings. And that’s what led to him taking slaves.”

“Good.” Hotch said with a nod.

“Obviously the guy doesn’t much care for the United States.” Morgan offered. “He bought Reid, and then abducted him, knowing perfectly well he’s an FBI Agent. And as I recall, last time he took Reid’s badge and credentials as a trophy.”

“What about the name he gave Reid?” Rossi asked.

“Cachorro.” Emily frowned. “It means ‘Pup’, or ‘Cub’.”

“Could it be his way of… stripping Reid of his identity?” JJ asked.

“His identity, and his humanity.” Rossi said, frowning. “He’s going to treat Reid as less than human and try to beat it into him that he IS less than human.”

“But Reid’s too smart for that!” JJ insisted.

“The strength of the mind is nothing if the spirit is broken.” Hotch said with a frown. “And that’s what I’m worried about.”

“He’s strong, Aaron.” Rossi said.

“I know.” Hotch sighed, as the team began to walk away from the dock. “But if he breaks, he’s going to break hard. If he breaks, I don’t know if he can be fixed.”
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Cachorro