Chapter 18: The Prank Summit
November 14, 2008 - Morning - CBI Headquarters
Lisbon's fury was magnificent.
She stood at her desk, coffee in one shaking hand, surveying the damage. Every item—computer, files, stapler, phone, coffee mug—had been shifted exactly three inches to the left.
"Jane!" Her voice carried across the bullpen. "Get over here. Now."
Jane appeared from the break room, picture of innocence. "Yes?"
"My desk. Explain."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He examined the arrangement. "Though I notice everything's been moved slightly. Interesting. Did you do that yourself? Feng shui experiment?"
Lisbon's jaw clenched. Rigsby and Van Pelt exchanged glances, clearly trying not to laugh. Cho kept typing, but his shoulders suggested amusement.
I approached Lisbon's desk carefully. "You know, payback is more satisfying when it's creative."
She turned, eyes narrowing. "What did you have in mind?"
"Can't say here. Too many listening ears." I glanced meaningfully at Jane, who'd returned to his couch. "Conference room? Five minutes?"
Ten minutes later, the conspiracy formed.
Lisbon, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and me huddled around the conference table. Cho declined participation but agreed to non-interference: "This should be educational."
"We need something psychological," I said. "Jane's good at reading people, but he's also suggestible if you plant the right seeds."
"What kind of seeds?" Van Pelt asked.
"The haunting kind."
Rigsby grinned. "You want to convince Jane he's being haunted?"
"Not by a ghost. By a solved case victim." I pulled up a file from six months ago—murder case Jane had helped close, victim named Michael Torres. "We make him think Torres is... lingering. Subtle at first. Then escalating."
Lisbon studied the file thoughtfully. "That's elaborate. And potentially mean."
"He moved your desk," I pointed out.
"Good point. I'm in."
November 15, 2008 - Morning
Phase one began with Van Pelt.
She approached Jane's couch casually, coffee in hand. "Did you just see that?"
Jane looked up from his book. "See what?"
"Nothing. Thought I saw someone in my peripheral vision. Tall guy, dark jacket." She shrugged. "Probably nothing."
She walked away. Jane's expression shifted—curiosity mixing with skepticism.
The Influence Metronome activated automatically as I watched from my desk.
[ **ANALYZING: CONVERSATIONAL DYNAMICS** ]
[ **VAN PELT'S SEED PLANTING: 73% EFFECTIVE** ]
[ **JANE INTEREST LEVEL: MODERATE** ]
[ **PSYCHOLOGICAL HOOK: ESTABLISHED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 71/100** ]
Phase two came at lunch. Rigsby "accidentally" left Michael Torres's case file on Jane's couch. Just sitting there, closed, innocent.
Jane found it immediately when he returned from the break room. He picked it up, flipped through pages, expression puzzled.
"Why is this here?" he asked the bullpen generally.
"What?" Rigsby looked over, feigning confusion. "The Torres case? That's been closed for months."
"I know. But it's on my couch."
"Maybe someone was reviewing it. You know, learning from past investigations."
Jane studied the file, then Rigsby, searching for deception. Finding none—because Rigsby genuinely believed his own cover story, having practiced it until the lie felt like truth.
Jane set the file on Lisbon's desk and returned to his couch, clearly unsettled.
November 16, 2008 - Afternoon
Phase three was Lisbon's contribution.
She stood near Jane's couch during afternoon briefing, discussing a current case, when she paused mid-sentence.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Jane asked.
"Whisper. Like someone talking very quietly nearby." She looked around, expression genuinely confused. "Must be the ventilation system."
But the seed was planted. Jane's eyes tracked the ceiling vents, the corners of the bullpen, searching for sources.
That evening, I timed my approach perfectly. The Influence Metronome guided each word, each pause, orchestrating psychological pressure like a conductor.
[ **INFLUENCE METRONOME: ACTIVE** ]
[ **CONVERSATIONAL CONTROL: 84%** ]
[ **JANE'S STRESS MARKERS: INCREASING** ]
[ **ENERGY: 67/100** ]
"You seem distracted," I said, sitting in the chair near his couch.
"Van Pelt seeing figures. The Torres file appearing. Lisbon hearing whispers." Jane ticked off each incident. "This is elaborate for a prank."
"Or it's coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidence."
"Neither do I." I stood. "But sometimes the brain finds patterns where none exist. Especially when tired."
I left him there, stewing. The doubt was setting in—was this coordinated, or was he seeing conspiracies in random events?
November 17, 2008 - Morning
Jane solved it at ten AM.
"You recruited Lisbon," he announced, standing in the middle of the bullpen. "That's the only explanation for her commitment to this bit. She'd never participate in pranks unless seriously motivated."
The team emerged from their various workspaces. Lisbon crossed her arms, fighting a smile.
"You moved my desk," she said.
"So you orchestrated a multi-day psychological operation involving the entire team." Jane looked genuinely impressed. "I'm actually proud. This was well-coordinated."
Van Pelt laughed. "We had help planning the psychological escalation."
"Who?"
My phone rang on cue. I put it on speaker. "Hey, Lorelei."
"Did it work?" Her voice carried clear amusement.
The bullpen froze. Jane's eyes widened.
"You were IN on this?" he asked.
"Tedd told me about your couch obsession weeks ago," Lorelei said. "I helped plan the psychological escalation. Suggested the Torres file specifically—recent enough to be memorable, significant enough to trigger response."
Jane stared at the phone, then at me, then laughed—genuine, delighted, the kind of laughter that erased the Red John case's lingering darkness.
"Your girlfriend's devious," he said. "I like her."
"She has her moments," I agreed.
"Tell Jane I'm glad he appreciates quality psychological warfare," Lorelei said. "And Tedd, don't forget dinner tonight. Seven PM?"
"I'll be there."
The call ended. The bullpen erupted in laughter—even Cho cracked a smile. Jane returned to his couch, still chuckling.
"Alright," he said. "I concede this round. But the war continues."
"Obviously," I said.
Lisbon shook her head, returning to her office. "You're all ridiculous. Get back to work."
But her smile remained. The prank had worked perfectly—coordinated team effort, psychological precision, and Lorelei's remote participation creating something Jane couldn't help but respect.
November 17, 2008 - Evening - Tedd's Apartment
"Jane officially approves of you," I said into the phone.
Lorelei's laugh was warm, unguarded. "Good. Because I think I'm falling for you."
The admission hung in the digital space between us. The System flagged its significance immediately.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI STATEMENT** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY: MAXIMUM** ]
[ **GENUINE ADMISSION: 98%** ]
[ **PROBABILITY OF DEEP ROMANTIC ATTACHMENT: 89%** ]
[ **TRUST LEVEL: 82%** ]
[ **ENERGY: 66/100** ]
"I'm already there," I said.
The pause was perfect—comfortable, meaningful, loaded with everything we hadn't yet put into words.
"Good," she said finally. "I'll see you in an hour?"
"I'll be there."
After we hung up, I sat in my quiet apartment processing. Three months ago, I'd met Lorelei at The Sterling Room—a cocktail waitress carrying grief, unknowingly positioned to become Red John's accomplice years from now.
Now she was my girlfriend. Someone I was genuinely falling for, not just protecting. The mission to prevent her recruitment had evolved into something real, complicated, terrifyingly genuine.
My phone buzzed. Text from Uncle Marcus.
Uncle Marcus: Heard you're seeing someone special! Your aunt Helen mentioned it. $20,000 coming your way. Treat her right! Also sending a watch I think you'll like.
The family always knew somehow. Their network of information was almost supernatural. Twenty thousand dollars, just because they'd heard I was dating someone seriously.
The deposit notification arrived minutes later. Ninety-five thousand in available funds now. Resources for whatever came next.
The System provided final updates.
[ **RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE: MUTUAL ROMANTIC COMMITMENT** ]
[ **LORELEI TRUST LEVEL: 82%** ]
[ **TEAM DYNAMICS: OPTIMAL** ]
[ **PRANK COORDINATION: SUCCESSFUL** ]
[ **INFLUENCE METRONOME: REFINED THROUGH PRACTICE** ]
[ **ENERGY: 64/100** ]
I grabbed my jacket and headed out. Dinner with Lorelei, then maybe staying over again. Normal couple things, building a normal relationship.
Except nothing about this was normal. I was a transmigrator with a System, hunting a serial killer I couldn't remember, protecting a woman from a future I was desperately trying to prevent.
But for tonight, I'd pretend normalcy was possible. That love and pranks and family gifts could coexist with the shadows.
Tomorrow would bring new complications. Tonight was just ours.
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