Disclaimer: Okay, put all your pens and legality away. I don't own
ANYTHING in this story, except the twisted ideas and events. Everyone,
except the deranged clown belongs to whomever owns CSI, and that is not me.
Author's Notes: This is my first fic, so be brutal in your reviews, PLEASE. Keep in mind that this is also my first humor piece and it was also a coffee-induced fit of rage after viewing "Crash and Burn".
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I didn't want to do it. I really didn't. Wait, no, scratch that. It felt really good, but killer's confessions usually don't start that way. I figured I'd add some dramatic tension.
Well, enough of that. This guy had really been pissing me off for quite some time. Smug expression, bad attitude, sucking up to the boss whenever her could. I was in ballistics before, when I got his page. Maybe it had been building up in me; maybe I was just stretched too thin. Maybe I was sick of how he treated everyone else. Maybe it was the smiley face that he added at the end of the text message, I guess I'll never know.
I remember taking the gun from Ballistics. I remember him hunched over his microscope, trying to look busy. I asked him if he wanted to play a game. He nodded feverishly, so I threw him and apple, and instructed him to put it on his head. He asked what we were playing and I said "William Tell". Which was a mistake, because he then started rattling off a narrative of Tell's life to impress me. It didn't. Anyway, old Willy was barely born before I plugged him. I wanted to get it just right so the bullet would knock the apple off his head after piercing his cranial cavity, but he moved too much and I got his trachea instead. Eh, you win some, you loose some. If only he didn't gesticulate so wildly while portraying Tell's mother's early teenage life.
So as he was gasping on the floor, she came in. We shared a silent moment of understanding before she moved to help me finish him off. Now that's why Las Vegas has one of the top crime labs in the nation, teamwork.
Author's Notes: This is my first fic, so be brutal in your reviews, PLEASE. Keep in mind that this is also my first humor piece and it was also a coffee-induced fit of rage after viewing "Crash and Burn".
_______________________________________________________
I didn't want to do it. I really didn't. Wait, no, scratch that. It felt really good, but killer's confessions usually don't start that way. I figured I'd add some dramatic tension.
Well, enough of that. This guy had really been pissing me off for quite some time. Smug expression, bad attitude, sucking up to the boss whenever her could. I was in ballistics before, when I got his page. Maybe it had been building up in me; maybe I was just stretched too thin. Maybe I was sick of how he treated everyone else. Maybe it was the smiley face that he added at the end of the text message, I guess I'll never know.
I remember taking the gun from Ballistics. I remember him hunched over his microscope, trying to look busy. I asked him if he wanted to play a game. He nodded feverishly, so I threw him and apple, and instructed him to put it on his head. He asked what we were playing and I said "William Tell". Which was a mistake, because he then started rattling off a narrative of Tell's life to impress me. It didn't. Anyway, old Willy was barely born before I plugged him. I wanted to get it just right so the bullet would knock the apple off his head after piercing his cranial cavity, but he moved too much and I got his trachea instead. Eh, you win some, you loose some. If only he didn't gesticulate so wildly while portraying Tell's mother's early teenage life.
So as he was gasping on the floor, she came in. We shared a silent moment of understanding before she moved to help me finish him off. Now that's why Las Vegas has one of the top crime labs in the nation, teamwork.