AN: Hello again! This idea come to me while watching an episode of CSI: Miami about a man who found the ultimate thrill in looking into someone's eyes as they died. I'm taking a /slight/ minor break type thing from "Lying...." because I'm on page 82 in Word, and it's mildly intimidating, haha. I'll still be working on it, promise! I also have another ficlet in the wings, so who knows what will be arriving here.
Disclaimer: Do not own Star Trek, CSI: Miami, nor the vague ideas I have gotten from Criminal Minds. [I watch a lot of Crime shows, wow.]
It was amazing, addicting, thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed. It was a powerful addiction that coursed through him. While dangerous, he couldn't live without it.
He never intended to let it go so far, but he couldn't stop now. Until he could find a replacement, he needed this and wouldn't be able to stop.
.
"Pack up." The deep voice called out from around the corner. "We're heading out to San Francisco in ten minutes." No one sat still and the small little offices were full of movement and noise. Pike turned the corner, coffee in hand and holstered his gun, tucked his badge into his inner pocket and grabbed the stack of files off his desk.
"I can't believe we're going to California. I haven't been there since training." Uhura said, a bright smile on her face.
"We are not going for personal reasons."
"I know. Lighten up, won't you?" She rolled her eyes in amusement, finishing up her preparations.
"There's a lot of talking going on." Pike called and Uhura laughed lightly to herself before walking out to meet up with him, followed by Spock.
"Where's the Doctor?" Spock asked when he had caught up to Uhura.
"On the plane already. Let's not keep him waiting. He might change his mind. You know how he is about flying." The three of them headed off to the hangar where Sulu was waiting. They boarded the plane and within minutes were in the air. Not even five minutes after take-off McCoy had gotten out of his seat and disappeared into the bathroom and everyone knew that they wouldn't be seeing him for the next two and a half hours.
Uhura grabbed one of the files and started rifling through it.
"There really isn't much to go on, is there?" She stated with a sigh. She knew this case would prove to be a little difficult.
"No. And from what we can tell, the victims are all random; there are absolutely no connections." Pike responded.
"Mary Benoit, 20; Daniel Herristberg, 23; Walter Mitchel, 31; Kelsey Weiger, 18." He read off the names without emotion. "The victims are younger, that seems to be our only lead. I think we can assume that this would remain constant in the future."
"I would think so." Pike affirmed.
"Nothing was stolen from the victims, no sign of sexual assault. What is this guy's motive?"
"So far, no one has an idea. The local police are stumped."
"That's why they've called us." Spock stated.
"Exactly."
Uhura sighed again, and turned her eyes back to the paper. She took out all the photos of the crime scenes and laid them out in front of her.
"Has anyone checked into these bracelets?" She asked suddenly to no one in particular.
"What bracelets?" Pike asked, moving to the seat next to her.
"These ones, sir." She pointed the brightly colored bracelets. "You usually get them at clubs. Maybe that's where he's getting these people." She looked down again. "All of the recent victims have the same colored bracelet, this pink one here, see it?"
Spock leaned over her shoulder to examine the photographs as well.
"The first and second victims have the same yellow one as well." He pointed out.
"When we get to San Francisco, Uhura, the first thing I want you to do is to look into those bracelets. " She nodded briefly, returning her attention to the dossiers of the victims. "Spock, you are to head directly into the police department and see what you can do there." Spock nodded as well before returning to his previous seat to rifle through his own set of files. "McCoy!"
"Yes?" McCoy's response was barely a groan, but it carried well enough due to his deep voice.
"Head down to the morgue and go over the autopsies."
"Sure thing." McCoy moaned from the bathroom. "Men weren't meant to fly."
Uhura couldn't help but chuckle to herself, neither could Pike.
.
"Hey." He purred in her ear. He smiled when she shivered. This would be so easy.
"Hey." She whispered back in response, her voice breathy. She was undeniably drunk and all on him, and it wouldn't take much effort to get her to trust herself to him, if he could judge anything from her libido.
The music was loud, roaring and thumping in his ear; the bass rocked him, he could feel it thrum all the way to his bones. It made him jittery and anxious and so in this moment. The air was musky and hot and heavy and there were so many people pressed against him. A wide smile spread across his face.
She leaned back against him, pressing tightly as she moved her hips. He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowds.
Outside the club, the air was cool and their bodies shivered as the sweat evaporated off their skin. The area behind the building was empty, shielded from view by fences, trees and garbage.
Before she could think, he had her pressed against the wall, clear plastic pressed over her nose and mouth.
His heart rate sky-rocketed. He looked into her wide, frightened eyes as she weakly mumbled something. He could see everything in her eyes, he could almost see her entire life as it slipped away.
She tried to push him away, but couldn't and he watched as her eyes started to glaze over and her muffled screaming faded.
He needed this thrill. It was an addiction. He never wanted to be a murderer, but he needed this so badly.
When her body was completely still, he kissed her through the plastic wrap then vanished.
.
"Hey, Pike. We've got another one." The gruff chief of police approached the group with a slip of paper. "Ruby Skye, 420 Mason St. The owner found her this morning out back when he was taking out the garbage."
"We're heading out. Uhura, contact Chekov. Spock, McCoy, you're with me."
The four men were gone within minutes, leaving Uhura alone at the police station. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the familiar number.
"Da?"
"Hey, Chekov. Can you run a background check on the owner of "Ruby Skye"?"
"Sure thing." Over the phone she could hear the clicking of the keyboard. "Well, nothing major, just a petty theft when he was 18. The club itself hadn't drawn so much attention until recently."
"Thanks. Oh! Can you help me out with the research on the bracelets?"
"Of course." The chipper, accented voice rang.
"You're such a doll."
.
"I'm a doctor, not a garbage man." McCoy groaned as he was led behind the building. When they finally found the girl, the smell was unbearable. "Could it have been hotter today?" He grumbled. McCoy knelt down next to her, as Spock took photographs.
The owner and the bouncer were quite a distance away talking with Pike.
"Do you recognize her?"
"Yeah, I saw her arrive with a couple of her friends. She was a regular; one of those heiresses who had all the money and all the time. She was here often." The bouncer explained.
"Did she leave with her friends?"
"I didn't actually see her leave."
"Neither did I." The owner stated.
"And you were the one who found her, correct?"
The owner nodded before answering.
"Yeah. I didn't mover her, I immediately called the police." He fell silent for a minute. "Does this have anything to do with the recent murders?"
"Yeah. I have a feeling." McCoy called from behind them. "She was killed the same way as with all the other victims."
The owner became shaky and sighed.
"This is going to be awful for business."
Pike eyed him curiously before taking down his name and the name of the bouncer. He then joined Spock and McCoy.
"Find the murder weapon?"
"I'm not sure what to be looking for." Spock stated, his gloved hands scouring the garbage containers.
"She was asphyxiated, but there are no marks around her neck." McCoy mused. "He could have covered her mouth and nose with a plastic bag, or something like it."
The body was brought to the morgue, McCoy riding along with the body, while Pike and Spock, with his collection of plastic bags and such, were on their way to the lab along with the chief of police.
.
"There are only so many images I can look at." She groaned, flipping through another set of images off the internet.
"Tell me about it." Chekov commented over the phone. She was starting to get a crick in her neck from using her shoulder to hold the phone to her ear.
"Any luck Uhura?"
She spun in her seat and sighed.
"It appears that some clubs change the color weekly." She readjusted the phone to the other shoulder. "But Ruby Skye is always red."
"What does that mean for our investigation?" Pike asked.
"Essentially nothing. We can't identify for sure the clubs our unsub visits, nor can we restrict him to a radius. So far, we know that he's gone to Ruby Skye, but that's the only one I can identify, and that doesn't mean much." She caught sight of the evidence bags Spock was carrying and eyed them. "What are you doing with all those?"
"Attempting to identify a murder weapon." Spock replied flatly. She could tell he was annoyed.
.
He found himself at a bar this evening. It was a place he was entirely familiar with. Everyone here knew him. It was a small, hometown kind of deal, the place that you could only ever find if you knew the city well. He was surprised when someone he didn't recognize entered the bar, sitting right next to him.
"Bourbon. Straight." The gruff voice stated. The man slumped over the counter, eyes half-lidded.
"You don't look so good." He commented.
"I bet I don't."
He couldn't help but laugh a little. He could probably really get to like this guy.
"I don't think I've ever seen you here before."
"I'm not from around here."
That makes sense. He took another swig of his own drink as he thought.
"You're from the South, right?"
"What? Yeah." The stranger said, shocked. "How'd you tell?"
"Aside from the accent, no one around here drinks bourbon." He replied, laughter in his voice.
"You weren't born here, either."
"You pegged it." He laughed into his glass. "Want to take a guess where?"
"Middle of the U.S., right?"
"Shit." He nearly choked on his drink.
"You seem like one of those farm boys." The man sitting next to him commented, laughing.
"What state?"
"How the Hell would I know? Iowa?"
"Well I'll be damned." The two of them laughed at his genuine shock. "Lemme guess where you're from."
"Sure."
"Give me a hint." He said after a moment of silence.
"I didn't get one."
"So?"
"Fine. We joined the Confederacy on January 19, 1861."
"What? Uhm, Georgia."
"Smart kid."
"Some hint. It's a good thing I'm smart."
"And humble."
"I'm Jim Kirk, by the way."
"Leonard McCoy."
.