City of Delusion 1/?
Sep. 30th, 2006 06:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregTitle: City of Delusion 1/?
Rating: R for the whole thing.
Characters/Pairing: Nick/Greg.
Summary: Nick and Greg are shocked when they find out two of their closest friends have been murdered. Then they learn they're next.
Warnings/Spoilers: Set after Dead Ringer. Anything before that is fair game.
Disclaimer: Yes, I own CSI. As well as the world.
The man sits in the abandoned lot off the Strip, watching the early morning traffic inch past through his windshield, hand tapping on the wheel restlessly. The digital clock changes to 5:30, and he reaches into his coat pocket, digging out his cell phone. He checks the time there, too.
After two rings, a hoarse voice chuckles in his ear. He scowls. I own you, do not laugh, he almost says aloud, only refraining by thinking of what he’ll do to make sure they know so. He smirks.
“Impatient much? It’s almost done.”
“Shut up, and then hurry your ass up. I want this finished. Now.”
No answer. Then one shot goes off. Good.
“One down, one more to go.” The hoarse-voiced man says, and in the background he hears someone whimpering – Cody, Cody! Wake up, baby. Please, no, this can’t be happening. Let me go, please. Get out of my house! Leave me alone, alone, with Cody, Cody… – and as he listens, the words please him immensely.
“Finish it.”
A silencer masks a second crack of gunfire. The screams cease. He sighs, grateful for the silence.
“It’s done.”
It better be, he thinks.
“Good. Get out of there. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” Said jokingly, yet this is anything but.
Well, not to him, anyways. He laughs then, loud and full of no remorse, and peels out the lot, tires screeching, horns honking around him.
––
Greg smiles as Nick walks into his lab, leaning against the desk where he’s sitting, finishing the report of his findings for Catherine and Warrick’s rape case.
“Ready for break?” Nick says, smiling down at him, eyes bright and unabashed love shining in them. That’s all it takes to make his day better, and he nods, looking back down at the file in front of him.
“Yeah, just a second.”
He follows Nick outside a few minutes later, both of them chuckling at some joke Archie threw at them as they walked down the hall.
The sky is still dark and as they step out into the cool fall air, he shivers, and then grins as Nick wraps warm arms around him from behind, chin falling onto his shoulder. He twists his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nick’s mouth, who grins and returns it as they walk along the side of the building.
––
The man leans against his dark Aston Martin – stolen, shamelessly – and watches the laughing figures across the street, their hands clasped together. He takes out his phone again, grinning and loving the feeling of pain he’s without a doubt going to cause as soon as this single call is made.
“Las Vegas Police Department–” A cheerful voice drones on, but he cuts them off. Idiots, you sure know how to take care of your own, he sighs, rolling his eyes at how clueless the entire building is. They think they can control him. Not anymore.
“There’s been a murder.” He pauses, just waiting, knowing what will come next.
The small gasp in his ear, quickly covered up, seems to echo and he smiles viciously.
“A cop. Lindley. I’m sure you know about his choice in,” another pause. “Partner, shall I say. In their own home. Sad.” A break in his spiel, and he smirks at the hurried typing and shouts on the other line. “Also, I suggest you let Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders from the crime lab know. Just a hint.”
He disconnects the call, snapping the small device shut and not hesitating as he crushes into the dashboard.
“Oh no. I forgot, you’re not supposed to hang up. My mistake.”
He stays only long enough to watch Stokes answer his phone, face falling and laughter dying as disbelief crosses his face, and he watches as Sanders grips his arm.
The engine rumbles beneath him as the car starts, a low growl, followed by the soft hum as he pulls out, picking up speed.
He rolls down the window, tossing out the trashed phone, and slides on his dark sunglasses. Shielding his eyes from the rising sun.
“I’d say I’m sorry, Stokes, but you’re just not worth it. Not yet, anyways.”
TBC.
Rating: R for the whole thing.
Characters/Pairing: Nick/Greg.
Summary: Nick and Greg are shocked when they find out two of their closest friends have been murdered. Then they learn they're next.
Warnings/Spoilers: Set after Dead Ringer. Anything before that is fair game.
Disclaimer: Yes, I own CSI. As well as the world.
The man sits in the abandoned lot off the Strip, watching the early morning traffic inch past through his windshield, hand tapping on the wheel restlessly. The digital clock changes to 5:30, and he reaches into his coat pocket, digging out his cell phone. He checks the time there, too.
After two rings, a hoarse voice chuckles in his ear. He scowls. I own you, do not laugh, he almost says aloud, only refraining by thinking of what he’ll do to make sure they know so. He smirks.
“Impatient much? It’s almost done.”
“Shut up, and then hurry your ass up. I want this finished. Now.”
No answer. Then one shot goes off. Good.
“One down, one more to go.” The hoarse-voiced man says, and in the background he hears someone whimpering – Cody, Cody! Wake up, baby. Please, no, this can’t be happening. Let me go, please. Get out of my house! Leave me alone, alone, with Cody, Cody… – and as he listens, the words please him immensely.
“Finish it.”
A silencer masks a second crack of gunfire. The screams cease. He sighs, grateful for the silence.
“It’s done.”
It better be, he thinks.
“Good. Get out of there. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” Said jokingly, yet this is anything but.
Well, not to him, anyways. He laughs then, loud and full of no remorse, and peels out the lot, tires screeching, horns honking around him.
––
Greg smiles as Nick walks into his lab, leaning against the desk where he’s sitting, finishing the report of his findings for Catherine and Warrick’s rape case.
“Ready for break?” Nick says, smiling down at him, eyes bright and unabashed love shining in them. That’s all it takes to make his day better, and he nods, looking back down at the file in front of him.
“Yeah, just a second.”
He follows Nick outside a few minutes later, both of them chuckling at some joke Archie threw at them as they walked down the hall.
The sky is still dark and as they step out into the cool fall air, he shivers, and then grins as Nick wraps warm arms around him from behind, chin falling onto his shoulder. He twists his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nick’s mouth, who grins and returns it as they walk along the side of the building.
––
The man leans against his dark Aston Martin – stolen, shamelessly – and watches the laughing figures across the street, their hands clasped together. He takes out his phone again, grinning and loving the feeling of pain he’s without a doubt going to cause as soon as this single call is made.
“Las Vegas Police Department–” A cheerful voice drones on, but he cuts them off. Idiots, you sure know how to take care of your own, he sighs, rolling his eyes at how clueless the entire building is. They think they can control him. Not anymore.
“There’s been a murder.” He pauses, just waiting, knowing what will come next.
The small gasp in his ear, quickly covered up, seems to echo and he smiles viciously.
“A cop. Lindley. I’m sure you know about his choice in,” another pause. “Partner, shall I say. In their own home. Sad.” A break in his spiel, and he smirks at the hurried typing and shouts on the other line. “Also, I suggest you let Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders from the crime lab know. Just a hint.”
He disconnects the call, snapping the small device shut and not hesitating as he crushes into the dashboard.
“Oh no. I forgot, you’re not supposed to hang up. My mistake.”
He stays only long enough to watch Stokes answer his phone, face falling and laughter dying as disbelief crosses his face, and he watches as Sanders grips his arm.
The engine rumbles beneath him as the car starts, a low growl, followed by the soft hum as he pulls out, picking up speed.
He rolls down the window, tossing out the trashed phone, and slides on his dark sunglasses. Shielding his eyes from the rising sun.
“I’d say I’m sorry, Stokes, but you’re just not worth it. Not yet, anyways.”
TBC.
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