He closed his eyes. It was all there. One man, one woman, three children, two boys and one girl. A pair of dogs, one of each sex. Not for pups, of course, but for company. Dogs poisoned, expertly while the masters were away, indicating some sort of affinity with animals. The dogs were meant to be children's pets, not watchdogs, so they accepted the arrival of a stranger. How he got in at the time to poison them was something of a mystery, considering that it happened a few days before the actual crime. A picked lock, a broken window... anything was possible. What came next was the horrific part.

Children, poisoned in their previous meals, went to bed, never to awaken. Husband immobilized with a syringe to the neck, wife bound as husband lay there watching helpless. Pictures hung above the wife's head, proof of her cheating on her husband, displayed for the horrified man to see, details shared by the assailant, by all counts. Wife raped brutally then, before he clamps his hand around her throat and squeezes the life out of her. Husband, with blood pumping with still immobilized by the anesthetic, has his carotid artery sliced with surgical precision, and left to bleed out. Assailant uses a preservative, so no usable DNA evidence found on the woman. Everything wiped down perfectly, leaving no evidence that there was a killer in the house at all, with no signs of forced entry, or alarms going off. Neighbors didn't see anything. Assailant feels he must be like a ghost, with the only evidence that he was in the house at all being the five murders.

"This ritual was performed seven times, in three states and four cities," Mark said to his class," Number of children varied, of course, but there were always children. Pets ranged from dogs, cats and even birds, to sometimes no pets at all, although if there was a pet in the house, so much as a hamster is was found dead, poisoned as well," He avoided looking at them when at all possible, but a few glimpses had a small bead of sweat running down his back. Daddy issues, from how she stared at the older man in the class with a mixture of fear, respect and sexual attraction, BDSM tendencies from the older man, from the delicate scars around his wrists and lips, from where restraints and gags were applied with a little too much enthusiasm. Manipulative with partners with a younger man to the right, quitting on men because of heartbreak with the woman on the left.

He clenched his hand and continued, forcing the quick and exacting judgement of each student that he looked at," An obsession with death, needing to leave everything gone in his wake. His victims are of varied nationalities, backgrounds, ethnicities and creeds. The fact that he only physically abused the wives, shows signs of hatred and lust that have gone too wild, even for him. Thus he needs a reason for it, and here we find his pattern. His judgement, as it were before sending the wife to his afterlife, is exposing her guilt to her husband, as he watches helplessly. These are the serial killers that are dreaded, not only because of the brutality of the crime, but because of the inability to be able to narrow down on the killer through his potential victims, who are both too numerous and too anonymous. There is emotion in the killing, seen in the very personal way that he kills the wife," Picture shown," but other than that, he keeps his killing of the rest of the family members strictly unemotional. The killer was caught through this emotional catch, as he left fingerprints on the neck of the wife of his seventh family, in which we were able to track him and bring him to justice. The name of the killer and his victims will be withheld, because tomorrow you each will study the files sent to your respective emails and produce a psychological profile on the killer," He dreaded this moment, but he was so close to the end.

He looked up to his class," Dismissed."

He quickly averted his eyes as all the people in the room stood quickly, running their eyes over friends' notes, ideas and talking excitedly. Mark turned to his table and quickly arranged his papers for the tenth time in the last two hours, taking a deep breath. He had done it. One more day. Practice your interactions with people, his doctor had said. If you don't like them, learn to tolerate them at least.

It was working, so far.

"Professor?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the thin, high-pitched voice of a female student came up behind him. He spun around a bit too quickly and adjusted his glasses," Yes, Miss..." What was her name?" Miss Gillian? How can I help you?"

A polite smile came with an overwhelming attack of knowledge, battering at his senses, making him blink and clench his hands. Overprotective family, Minnesota, larger brothers, too shy for her own good but inherently a nice person, too shy, too afraid of the world around her but trying to put on a brave face. Wanting to move ahead of her family, outdo her mother, since she apparently still had some power over her, as well as impress her father. Not too popular in school, therefore seeing every male around her as a potential mate, thus the flirtatious high tone of her voice and over abundance of smiles.

God, she was still speaking, wasn't she? He forced a smile," I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if you were called in to observe on this case, or provide an analytic observation on the assailant?"

Sneaky. Cheater. Smarter than he gave her credit for," I don't do field work, Miss Gillian. I only study it," Was enough of an answer to stall her from discovering if the murders happened before or after he came to the FBI, thus giving her clues as to the timeline of the murders," You would do well by doing the same, I think."

A disappointed look crossed her face," I will, hard to with so little evidence and lack of eyewitnesses."

Mark scowled now," Profiles are built by observing the evidence. Crucial information is hard to find, even with eyewitnesses. People see what they want to see in other people, not the truth. Evidence never lies, and never covers up information because of first impressions," He shook his head," Have a nice day Miss Gillian," He turned away, hoping she would take the hint.

She did, but he heard another set of footsteps coming closer. God, please not another trainee. Mark turned and did a doubletake. This was a full agent, badge and everything, and arrogance to match. Odd. They never liked coming down here, especially to talk to professors. Failed agents, they saw them as, unworthy of being in the field, doing the real work, catching the bad guys, not teaching other people how to do it. There was something beside loathing in this man's eyes, though. fear, anxiety, a weird twitch in his neck that meant that he was here because he had to be, not because he wanted to. He hadn't been ordered down here, though, not really.

Mark swallowed and blinked, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes, thankful for the reprieve of the bombardment of information that he didn't want," Of course he did. Why else would you be here?" What would make this obviously skilled and intelligent agent afraid? No, not afraid... anxious. Like someone he trusted more than he would his father was afraid, and like a good son he was confused as to why, and anxious to make that fear go away. J.L. Head of the BSU division of the FBI, in charge of handling the... touchy cases.

"You know I don't handle field cases, Agent, and so does J.L."