Author's Note: Alright, I know I might be annoying some people by starting so many stories and not working on the few I have already started, but I at least need these ideas down so I can later work on them even more! This story is a bit AU, set in a time of something like a "world war" of sorts. I might even play around with point of view in this story. I hope you enjoy! This was just a random spurt of an idea! –DarkArrow225

I saw it on the news. The world was officially at war.

I never could've guessed what that meant for me and my team of CSIs working in New York City. The city changed so fast we couldn't even understand it. Crime rates shot through the roof and it quickly became clear that New York City would never be exactly the same as it was before the war.

I told them something that came directly from my mind and heart. And I don't think I've ever heard or spoken more true words in my entire life. I told them this:

"Justice used to mean something in this city. We used to have a purpose as officers of the law. Now all any of us are are outlaws. We're all just trying to survive in this strange world that reminds me mostly of the wild, wild west before laws were ever brought there."

New York City was an outlaw land. And, boy, I never thought I'd see anything like this. I saw a good handful of things from time as a Marine and over 10 years of experience as a Crime Scene Investigator in this very city.

So, enough ranting on and on…let me tell you the actual story. I'll start when I and one of my CSIs tried to process a scene in Jackson Heights…

I backhanded sweat from forehead. Danny did the same beside me. We were both dressed extremely light, I in a t-shirt and jeans, Danny in a t-shirt and capris.

We were both drained of energy and starting to lose all faith in any kind of good surviving after the war started to get to people. The war affected everyone. Even me. And I'd seen war before, but not like this.

Never like that.

We jumped at every little sound. I sighed and tried to focus once more. Focusing only got harder with every hour. I'd had to use every last thing they taught me in the Marines just to keep myself and my team alive these past three months.

It was taking its toll.

My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips in an attempt to throw off such a distraction, but my dull eyes and slightly shaking hands told me I was in desperate need of water. I really needed to pay attention to that need more often.

I heard Danny sigh behind me as he packed up his forensics kit to head back to the lab. I stood with a sigh and left my bloodied latex gloves on my hands as I pocketed my penlight.

"You alright, boss?"

Danny sounded tired and when I looked at him, I saw the same exhaustion I felt showing in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. Danny knew I had lied, but he didn't push the matter. We'd all been lying. We were not fine, but we were as fine as we could be in the world that we now had to live in.

"How's Lucy doing?" I asked, trying to distract both of us from the dark city, our exhaustion, and the war.

"About as good as we can keep her in this world," Danny replied. He looked at me and I watched as he sighed and shrugged a bit, seeming a bit lost for what to do. I didn't blame him.

"I'm just not sure what we should do these days, Mac. I mean, look at us…all of us!"

I sighed and nodded. "I know. Trust me, I know," I assured him. I felt so exhausted that saying I was half the man I used to be sounded pretty accurate to myself. I was a shadow of the detective I had been before the war.

I still had the same skills, same accuracy, but it was just harder to keep that up now that my strength-both physical and emotional-was draining away with every second.

We were both distracted by a sound. I laid a hand to my loaded gun that was in my holster and my blue gaze scanned everywhere I could see.

The two of them came out of nowhere and I winced as I felt a knife slash across my upper left arm. My back to the wall, I used what I knew in unarmed defense to fight off the attacker the best I could.

I never saw his face, never thought to look at his face.

Danny hadn't saw either of their faces either, but as quick as they'd come, they were gone.

Both of us had stood, tense, all our sense on high alert, for about two minutes.

They were completely gone.

Thankfully, Danny hadn't been hurt, but blood ran down my arm, making the injury look worse than what it was.

"Let me see that," Danny said, looking concerned.

Once again, I didn't blame him. I didn't even protest. Like I said, I was a shadow of what I used to be. Four months ago, I would've protested and said I was fine.

Now? I slouched in to the Avalanche outside the building we'd been processing in and closed my eyes as I leaned back in the seat, purely exhausted.

Danny did his best to clean up some of the blood on my arm and we used gauze from out kits to keep the bleeding down until we could get back to the lab. Hawkes could check me out there.

Danny drove, keeping an eye on me as I lay quietly in the passenger side seat of my truck, half-asleep because I was so wore out.

I owed him a thank you for not waking me once we got back to the lab.

We made it back to the lab and both of us stumbled as we headed in to the lab. Hawkes met us, giving us one glance over before sitting us both down and looking over us.

He cleaned up the cut on my arm, which wasn't very deep, and bandaged it to keep out infection. He even gave me a shot of antibiotics just to be sure. We couldn't risk it either way; we were already "short-staffed" as all of us were extremely worn out. We had crime scenes that still needed to be processed and no one to go to them.

Yeah. That's how bad our situation was.

Danny told me he'd handle getting the evidence we'd collected to the lab, so I got a bottle of water and went to me office, collapsing in my chair and unscrewing the cap on the bottle.

I pulled out my phone and tossed it somewhat carelessly to my desk, taking a long drink from the cold bottle of water.

I found myself going back to questions I asked before, turning on the news and letting it be my quiet background noise as my mind wandered to questions such as, Why did we all go to war? What happened to make this city a shadow of its former self? How much longer can I keep up this strong act for my team? Most importantly, I asked myself,

How much longer can you keep yourself going like this? You can't handle this forever, Mac.

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it?

I sighed and held a hand to my head, trying to ignore the stinging pain from the cut on my arm, wondering how much more I could take, how long it would be before I was finally so worn down that anyone could walk up and take a swing at me and I wouldn't even think about trying to fight back.

That day seemed to get closer with every minute. I was not looking forward to that day, because I knew that would be the day when the outlaws on the street would kill me.

I knew they wouldn't even think twice. All I would be to them would be one less guy on the streets. More specifically, one less cop.

What has the world come to these days?