This story was inspired by pygmymuse on LJ. I made a suggestion to her she took it in one direction and the muse tapped me on the shoulder and encouraged me to go another way. Also Camy's Beya Vegas Challenge mocked me and Camy has been hounding me...so here you are 8D. Can't promise timely updates due to RL and the muse, but we will see where this takes me. No beta so all mistakes are mine.

As for the characters, don't own them can't afford too...my pension is gone thanks to Wallstreet. With that said, PTB please don't sue.

On with the story:

Chapter One

Detective John Sheppard bent over the shriveled body of the newest victim in a bizarre ongoing murder case. The condition of the body the same as all of the other victims with two exceptions…the victim was in an alleyway in a seedy part of Vegas and he had a gun. The hand holding the gun looked as if it had been crushed by some great force leaving the weapon lying upon what had once been firm flesh. The telltale marks on the chest seemed to follow the pattern found on the other victims of what Sheppard was now starting to believe *was* a serial killer. What didn't make sense this time were the locale and the weapon. The other victims had all been found in the desert and there was never any indication that there were weapons involved. So, far they had been able to keep this thing under wraps, but with the crowd gathering on the sidewalk behind him he knew there was no way to circumvent the media this time. Crap.

John turned his head from the body to look at the man that Ronon was interviewing. The homeless man that happened upon the crime now sat, shaking so bad John thought his teeth would start to rattle, except he was talking too fast for that to happen. He caught bits of the conversation about pale demons and John had to wonder if the guy had gotten a hold of a bad batch of stash along with the alcohol that tainted his breath.

"I'm not crazy I tell you or high. Sure, I had a little something to drink, but I know what I saw."

"A little… something? How about you tell me again what you *saw*", Ronon asked in that deep growl of his John recognized after years of working as his partner as frustration. Maybe, it was time he asked a few of the questions.

"I already told you," the man shouted standing on shaky legs frustrated & defensive. Ronon was about to pounce on the guy when John stepped in.

"Well, you haven't told me, so why don't you say it again…just for the record," replied John with a pointed stare in Ronon's direction.

The man settled back down wrapping his baggy coat around his body as if it would ward away his intoxicated nightmare.

"Like I told Tarzan of the Apes here," he nodded his head in Ronon's direction which elicited a growl from said Ape man, "I heard gunshots and went to check them out."

"You always been such a good Samaritan?"

The man turned his attention back to John. "Well you hear stuff around here all the time, but this was different. Several shots back to back like someone empting a clip and then this blood curdling scream. I went to see what was going on and when I got there was this man, at least I thought it was. Anyway, it had this kid crushed up against the wall with his hand pushed against his chest. I knew this kid from the hood, bad sort always getting into trouble. Well, he couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen, but as I stood there he aged until he looked like he was over ninety. That thing was sucking the life out of him. All I knew was I wanted to get out of there. I was backing up, trying to be quiet and didn't see the trash can behind me. I stumbled over it and the thing turned on me and would have gotten me too, if that police car hadn't come around the corner with alarms blaring. Thank god, someone must have called in the shots, so it took off. I don't think I would ever say this, but I never been so happy to see a cop in my life."

"You said you thought *it* was a man. What made you change your mind?" John asked.

"When it turned on me its eyes, it had these weird yellow eyes. They looked a little like a weird kinda of insect or a cat high on meth, take your pick."

"Yeah, you would know about meth", huffed Ronon.

"Hey," the guy pointed a finger at Ronon indignantly, "I don't do drugs. I've got a reputation in this neighborhood to protect."

"Right"

"Gentlemen, if we can stay on track here." John snapped his fingers between them to get their attention. "What else did you see?"

"The hand that was pressed to the kid's chest was covered in blood, but I could see some kind of slit in the palm. And those shots must have been from the kid's gun because that thing's chest had bullets holes riddled in it and it didn't even look fazed."

"Huh, huh", Ronon said with an eye roll as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I know what I saw I tell you" the man shouted at Ronon again pointing a finger in his face.

John shot him a look. "Okay, tell you what buddy…what's your name?"

"Rodney. Rodney McKay", the man lifted his chin proudly.

"Okay, Rodney," John said putting a hand on the man's shoulder and steering toward a patrol car. "We're going to finish up here, check out a little more of your story. Meanwhile, I'm gonna let that fine officer over there take you to the station. You can take a nap, maybe have something to eat. How about that and we'll talk again." John waved the officer over.

"But I didn't do anything. Why am I going to jail? Here I am trying to be an upstanding law abiding citizen and I get dragged off to jail."

"Listen, we can do this nice like my partner suggested or you can do it my way," growled Ronon, "take your pick."

"Humm… I get something to eat you said?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure of it. Thomas, make sure that my friend Rodney gets a meal on me when he gets to the station."

"Sure thing, Sheppard," Thomas said as he lead the man to the car, the guy ranting about not being crazy the whole way.

"You don't really believe that story do you?" Ronon asked hands on his hips.

"Well, I believe he saw something, but *what* is another thing." John rubbed his hand though his unruly hair, working it up some more. He walked back over to the body, bent down and picked up something turning it around in his finger, it was a bullet casing.

"One thing is sure; someone did empty a weapon here. But there are no holes in the wall indicating a misfired shot or blood, not even the victims. And this body certainly fits the pattern of the other's we've found so far."

"Yeah, but they were found in the desert, not some back alley in some slum hood of Vegas. Maybe, it's a copycat." Ronon rubbed his chin bending over the body and examining it more closely.

"Lorne said he wouldn't release the information about the other murders to the public until I gave the go ahead, so no one knows. All we need is a panic about serial killers. I trust him to keep his word, he has so far."

"Sheppard !"

John turned toward the voice calling his name and watched as his friend walked toward him with recorder in hand.

"Speak of the devil."