Assassin

[kieksterbanjo.livejournal.com]

Title: Assassin
Rating: Chapter 1: PG
Author: kieksterbanjo
Warnings: Violence and shooting and all that stuff
Summary: He's one of their best trainees...but is he ready for the real thing and everything that comes with it?---- Totally AU and there is a good chance the rating will fluctuate.
Disclaimer: Would I like to own them? YES. But do I? Alas No. I would also like to make money from this and marry Benji Schwimmer from So You Think You Can Dance but one must live in the real world. *sigh*
A/N: So I'm bored from being off school for the next three weeks so what does that mean? I post more. I posted this over at WMTDB but decided to post it over here basically because I enjoyed it so much. I'll post a chapter a day if you wnat them:)

Chapter 1

 

He crouched down with his back flat against the pristine white wall right before a corner. In his right hand he held his weapon of choice, a Smith & Wesson M&P .40, in a tight grip, with the barrel pointed to the ceiling and a finger hovering over the trigger. His left hand wiped the sweat from his brow. He always hated that he sweat this much, it wasn’t very professional of him, but he couldn’t help it. Whether it was nerves, or just plain adrenaline he could never tell, but he sweat buckets every time.

 

He only had a moment to get it right, a split second really and then the perfect opportunity would evaporate. He both loved and loathed this part. The waiting and watching. The planning and execution were standard procedure. Do what you had to too get the job done. But this part, the part between the planning and the execution was what he lived for, and what he hated the most all at the same time.

 

His heart rate increased as his watch ticked down the last minute before he could execute. His left hand was shaking like a leaf, while his right stayed steady as stone.  The white of the walls seemed to glow as his pupils dilated. Yup he was in prime fight or flight mode. Only he couldn’t ‘fly’ and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the effects.

 

30 seconds left before ‘go’ time and he wills his body to still. His careful planning left no room for moving; he would stop breathing if he could afford it. He had to get his mind to be somewhere other then where he was. He knew it sounded weird and everyone who knew that he did it advised against it, but whenever he was in this position he always acted best when his mind wasn’t on what he was doing. He knew what he was doing, had memorized his actions before hand and now it was time to turn his mind off and let his body take over, it was the only way he was able to do what he had to.

 

Ironically, this time his mind seemed to turn to a memory of him and his father when he had only been eight talking about the dangers of fire arms.

 

~~~

            “I want to talk to you about something important son.” His father said as he leaned up against the doorway after reading him a bedtime story.

 

            “What’s that Daddy?”

 

            “You know what I do right?” He asked.

 

            “Of course I do, Dad. You’re a cop.”

 

            “That’s right and every day I see things that no one should ever see and do you know what causes most of that stuff?” he asked.

 

            “Bad people?”

 

            “Well yes bad people, but more importantly the weapons they use. Nothing good can come from guns son.” He said seriously.

 

            “You carry one don’t you?”

 

            “I do. But only to protect me and if I didn’t have to I wouldn’t carry one. I want you to make a promise to me.” He said softly, yet with that strength that only comes from a father.

 

            “What’s that Dad?”

 

            “Promise me that you’ll stay away from guns and anything having to do with guns. I know what happens when people are around them and I don’t ever want that for you.” His voice was almost a whisper.

 

            “Okay Daddy. I won’t ever touch a gun.”

~~~

 

            His watch ticked down the last second and suddenly everything fell into place. The flight or fight response was gone and in its place an overwhelming desire to fight. He could almost hear an audible click as the location, the timing and the position all seemed to fit and he swung into execution mode; the easy part.

 

            Just like it was slow motion, he pushed himself up from wall and swung to his right to face down the adjoining hallway. At the same time the barrel of his gun swung from facing the ceiling to facing its target at the end of the hallway and his left hand came to meet the right. Taking aim as if he’d done it every day since he was born, the index fingers of his right and left hands squeezed the trigger back and let a solitary bullet fly.

 

            The bullet hit its target squarely in the chest and he gave himself a moments grace to praise himself on the exceptional aim. And then he was gone. In like a ghost and out just the same. He was trained to be invisible and he was just that, the unsuspecting people he left behind could deal with the aftermath of his actions.

 

Another one down, another mission completed.

 

--- --- --- ---

 

            Two men stood behind a one sided mirror, smiling at the events that had just transpired. Both had watched the young man execute the task with astonishing effectiveness.

 

            “You’ve done well with this one.” One of the men said softly.

 

            “I’ve done well? No way. That was all him. He’s got natural talent if I’ve ever seen it.” The other said still smiling at the place the shooter had just left.

 

            “Either way he’s almost ready. I’m going to suggest he take his final proficiency as soon as possible.”

 

            “Are you kidding? He hasn’t been training that long, we have others who’ve trained longer.”

 

            “Well I think he’s ready.” The first man looked down at the folder in his hands, where the smiling face of the man he had just watched looked up at him and sighed, “I just hope you can make an honest man out of me Gregory Sanders.” he said almost to himself, “Nick you’ve trained enough to know we’re onto something with this one. He could almost rival you.”

 

            Nick Stokes sighed. He knew his boss was right. Gil Grissom was rarely wrong. Nick, while rarely one to tout his own horn, was good at what he did. Damn good. And his job? World class assassin working for Special Force (SF); the only legitimate company of its kind in the United States. Their purpose? To do what other companies such as the FBI and CIA wouldn’t. Take on jobs that would be considered ‘against company policy’ to those companies and complete them efficiently and with as little mess as possible. They were the ghosts of the country and they were good.

 

            “Could you let him know?” Grissom asked flipping through some papers in the file and jotting down notes as he went.

 

            Nick turned to face the training room and sighed again as he looked at the cardboard cutout of Kevin Federline with a round bullet impact in the chest. He didn’t think it was a good idea, for Greg to take his final proficiency so soon. Yes the man was good, terrific actually, but it took more then skill to do this job and Grissom, who had never been out in the field, didn’t really understand that. He was interested in the facts. Greg could physically do the job and that was enough of a decider, regardless of how psychological ready he was.

 

             “Sure thing Grissom.” Nick answered anyway. He knew better then to argue with the boss. He nodded to the man that wasn’t even looking at him and slipped out of the viewing room to make his way towards the sleeping area of the training facility, the room the trainees were told to go to after completing a session.

 

            Even though he didn’t Greg was completely ready, at least Nick knew that he himself would be there during the final proficiency, to help Greg through it. After that however…Greg would be on his own. When a hired assassin from SF went out in the field he or she went out alone and the thought of Greg doing that make Nick’s stomach hurt. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned for the younger man, he was just like any other trainee right?

 

--- --- --- ---

 

            “Can I ask you a question?” Nick asked to Greg’s back as he leaned against the door to the sleeping area that consisted simply of 6 cot like beds and 6 dressers.

 

            Greg jumped at the sudden voice and fumbled the shoelace he had been tying. He silently cursed himself, someone going into his line of work shouldn’t jump that easily, before turning around to face his mentor and trainer Nick, “Sure.” He smiled hoping Nick hadn’t seen his start.

 

            He had, but he wasn’t going to comment, just mentally hitting his boss for suggestion they put the younger man through something he didn’t seem quite ready for, “Why do you always choose people like Kevin Federline or Justin Timberlake for these exercises? We do have other choices you know. Do you have some problem with the men Britney Spears dates? Jealous?” Nick asked with a chuckle.

 

            Greg whooped with laughter and then shrugged with a sparkle in his eye, “You couldn’t be more wrong about the jealous part.” He didn’t give Nick time to comment before going on, “I just have a fundamental problem with douche bags.” He said simple.

 

            “Uh huh.” Nick said slowly with a nod, “Well at any rate you did great today, well the whole assignment really.” Nick said as way of starting the actually conversation he had come for. He watched Greg nod his thanks before continue, “Grissom watched you today, said you have real skill.”

 

            Greg beamed and Nick knew why. Greg was nervous around the boss and the fact that Grissom didn’t want to kick him out or murder him himself would elate the trainee, “He thinks you’re making real progress,” Nick continued shifting his eyes from the man with the goofy smile, “He’s actually thinking of moving the process along for you. And so yeah, he’s going to recommend you go on your final proficiency as soon as possible. Well I’m out of here.” He rushed through the words, through his hand up in a little wave and then high-tailed it out of the room before he could see the look on Greg’s face at the news.

 

            If he had stayed he would have seen a moment where the smile that had fixed Greg’s features froze in an odd maniacal grin and his eyes widened. Only for a second though as Greg snapped out of his shock and called after Nick, “What the..? How is that…? Nick? Nick?!” To no avail though, the man was already long gone. *Oh shit.*

 

TBC

 

A/N: I totally dreamt this last night so I thought I would make it a story. Not to mention however that I’ve ALWAYS wanted to see Greg, especially since he became a CSI, with a gun so I figured I would make it happen in my story. Have something to say? Feel free…I’m always up for a little more reading. LOL. =D

Comments

[barush.livejournal.com]

wow, that got me really interested:)it's not hard to imagine Greg as "assassin".
can't wait for more!

[ceala.livejournal.com]

This is an interesting concept. There's not enough in this chapter to guess how it may go but it's for sure good enough to continue and see what you come up with. I can see Greg doing all of this except actually pulling the trigger on a warm, living body. You need to change my perception for me.

[musicluvr325.livejournal.com]

It's funny how most of us want to see Greg with a gun. I hate guns, yet when I see Nick with one....well never mind what I think because it's all bad. If Greg ever used one I might pass out.


So far interesting.