Disclaimer: I do not own CSI

The scene at the crack house was particularly grisly. The house itself was a dilapidated shell in a state of advanced disrepair. Littered throughout the house had been lost souls; trying to become even more lost through the mind numbing effects of crack cocaine, and anything else they could procure. Lives laying waste; feeling nothing at all, when suddenly somebody had an emotion, actually felt something, but not in a good way. Tempers flared, a gun appeared, and shots rang out. Shots hit almost randomly as the shooter had obviously long since lost any ability to actually stand steady and aim. Many in the house were unable to fathom what was unfolding, and unable, even, to get out of harms way. Those who were just completely oblivious; they had to be sorted out from the injured and the dead. The EMT's had their hands full.

Brass was waiting in front of the house for the CSI's. "I dunno, I've seen some messed up people in my day, but this scene….." Shaking his head, he continued, "Follow me, this room off to the right rear of the house; it appears most of the action happened in here."

Nick and Warrick followed Brass into the dimly lit hell hole, gingerly stepping over the debris that littered the entry hall. Immediately flipping on their flashlights to guide their way, they both shuddered as they took in the sheer volume of work they were looking at to process this place. Entering the room Brass spoke of, they took in the sight of a dead body strewn across the floor; blood oozing from an obvious bullet hole in his abdomen. "There's this guy here, another across the hall there in that doorway, and another dude outside with the EMT's who was hit in the arm evidently as he passed in front of that window," Brass gestured at a busted out excuse of a window on the far side of the room. "Have fun, guys," he sarcastically intoned, as he made his way back outside to try and get a lucid story out of somebody.

Nick and Warrick could only groan and sigh at the filth and clutter of the room, "You want that side, I'll start over here?" Nick suggested.

"Sure, why not, I mean we got to start somewhere," Warrick complied.

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late," David lamented.

"Don't worry, Super Dave, we've got plenty to keep us busy until you release the body."

David looked around the room, nodding and cringing in understanding.

Just then Grissom appeared at the doorway. "You guys keep processing here; I'm going to be across the hall." He left Nick and Warrick sifting through dirty needles, various blood drops, and lots of other trash and questionable stains, cussing as they went.

Grissom slowly made his way through the rest of the house. It was an old raised cottage, a bit out of place for Vegas, but that was irrelevant as it had long since lost the character that made it someone's home. Most rooms had EMT's evaluating individuals in various states of incapacitation. As Grissom studied the second body in the hallway; he stepped over him and into another room. The room was directly across the hallway from Nick and Warrick, and it was possible that the shooter was firing from Grissom's room. He was able to stand in one place with both bodies and the window in range. He began to study the room, snapping pictures, and scanning the spent drug paraphernalia strewn about, when something caught his eye. Over against the wall was a silver chain. It shone brightly in his light, and was markedly different from the rest of the objects littering the floor. It was beauty in clear contrast to the filth; it had to be probative. Grissom made his way to it; watching his step as he tread through the minefield of a few scattered, spent needles. Just as he was rooting through his vest for his forceps, the floor board gave way allowing his left foot to fall to the ground beneath the house. The rest of his body fell forward awkwardly; his down hand got stuck in the vest pocket, and he was unable to arrest his fall. His left temple hit the edge of a window sill quite hard, the full weight of him behind it. When he finally landed in a crumpled heap, his knee was painfully twisted as it emerged from the hole in the floor, and his head wound had a trickle of blood flowing down his cheek. He let out a howl at the sudden perception of pain from both his leg and his head, bringing Nick and Warrick across the hall in an instant. "Griss, what the hell…" Warrick gasped at the sight. They each grabbed an arm for leverage, and let Grissom work his leg free of the hole. There was a whole section of floor that was damp and rotting, and by giving way helped keep his knee from being hurt worse than it was. He kicked wood free to bring it up. When he was finally standing, "We need to get you checked out," Nick admonished as he left to find one of the overburdened EMT's.

"They've got enough to do!" he shouted after Nick, but he was already heading out. "Warrick, do you see any needles, or any other debris for that matter, in my clothes?"

Warrick combed over every inch of Grissom, "I don't know how, but nothing stuck to you."

Grissom winced at the pun, "Thank God for that. I wouldn't want to inadvertently get stuck later; sharing body fluids with this crowd is not something I would take lightly." Grissom was clearly relieved about that, but rubbing his knee, he was obviously hurting.

"I think your head hit the only solid piece of this entire house," Warrick stated, as he inspected the window sill, and the crumbling floor. "I think this wood rotted because of the leak from up here," he observed, as he pointed his flashlight on a water stained ceiling.

"Figures," he said, wincing.

"Let me see that Dr. Grissom," a young female EMT spoke as she stepped over the body, returning with Nick.

"It's fine, really," Grissom tried to avoid her, but was unable to walk without a limp.

The woman was undaunted, she flashed her light on the head wound, and quickly examined his pupils. "At least come out to the rig and let me clean that up for you. I might even have a splint for that knee."

"Come on Grissom, let her get the filth of this place out of that hard head," Nick pleaded with him.

Rolling his eyes, he started out of the house, holding his head, and limping noticeably.

TBC…..