A.N.) I can't believe that I actually got a review without telling anyone about this. What can I say other than "Wow and thanks!" Means a lot to me, it really does. So, keep R&R, and I'll keep writing.
FF14
************************************************************************
Chapter 2
"Well, it's quite an interesting story......................."
"Good, some excitement is needed right now."
"Alright then. After I finished college, I came here, to Vegas, and applied for a job as a lab technician. But somehow the FBI ended up with my application, so they called me up after I had been living here for a year. During that year I had been working in various small clinics, doing lousy, small tasks, such as blood work and what not. Which all explains why I was stuck living in a cheap, but not quite run-down, apartment. So anyway; the FBI calls me up, says I'm to move up to D.C. and take the lab tech job they had open there. They were willing to pay a large amount and promised that it was a decent job. So I went up there. For the following two years I worked for them, testing DNA and trace samples and everything. Oh yeah, I loved what I was doing, but when they started making me do things like get their coffee and then yell at me for not working; I left. I wasn't about to put up with their shit! So then I came back down here, and here I am, where I had wanted to be before."
"That was quite interesting. So what do you think about our wonderful federal agents now?" he asked me, showing a slight grin.
"What do I think? I think they are a bunch of low-down crooks themselves, taking all the credit for the cases that I solved while they sat at their desks drinking coffee. In simplest terms; they are a bunch of pompous jack-asses that can rot in hell for all I care!" I exclaimed, jumping up out of my seat.
"Well then, that proved that you'll fit in perfectly with our night crew. It's no secret; the FBI agents hate us, and we hate them even more. I welcome you," he replied, showing no emotion to my outburst other than a simple, yet small, smile.
"I'm sorry about that, I just got a little carried away," I said, still standing.
"Don't worry about it. Now that that's taken care of, I'll introduce you to everyone," Grissom said to me, walking to the door.
Walking down the other end of that hallway, he stopped in front of a room with one glass wall.
Looking inside the room, I saw pictures of blood spatter patterns and the various weapons that caused them.
"So, I'm guessing that this is our newbie here," a woman said, coming out of the room.
"Yes, this is her. Cristina Miltadez, I'd like you to meet Catherine Willows," he said to the two of us.
We shook hands before she said, "I see you've noticed the pictures I keep in here. Blood spatter analysis, that's my specialty. And, as if you haven't noticed, Grissom's area is entomology (A.N. the study of insects.) Glad to have you with us."
As Catherine walked back into her room, Grissom continued to show me around. The next room we stopped at was full of t.v. and computer screens, as well as audio equipment. Two men were standing just inside the doorway. They turned to face us as Grissom knocked on one of the glass walls.
"And who have we here?" the tall, well-built guy asked, looking me over.
"Nick Stokes, meet Cristina Miltadez," Grissom said, indicating the one who had just spoken to me.
I shook his hand. Then I shook the hand of the tall, black man next to Nick.
"And this is Warrick Brown, who works in this room."
"So, what brings you to wonderful Vegas?" Warrick asked me.
"If you really want to know; a bunch of pompous-jackasses that work for the FBI," I replied, grinning at Nick and Warrick.
"Nick, shouldn't you be getting back to work?" Grissom asked him.
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "I do hair and fiber analysis, so I'm just a few rooms down, if you need me," he added, though speaking to me.
"I'll be sure to remember that," I replied, rolling my eyes as he walked away.
"And as you already know, I work here, with the audio/visual evidence. Nice meeting you Cristina," Warrick said to me.
As Grissom and I began to walk down the long glass hallway, I just barely heard Warrick comment to someone: "Damn! Our newbie is hot as hell!"
I just smiled and kept walking down the hallway.
But we didn't walk far. We stopped at a room with all glass walls. There was a woman working inside. She looked up from a microscope, smiled at us, and came over to the door.
"Sara Sidle, this is our new lab tech, Cristina Miltadez."
"Hey. It's nice to have another girl around here. Cath and I were getting kinda lonely," she said to me as we shook hands. "I work with material evidence, so I may be seeing you around fairly often. Welcome to the night shift."
We were about to leave when someone walked up to us: "Ah, this must be our new tech."
"Hello Al. Yes, this is her. Cristina Miltadez, please meet Doc Robbins, our chief medical examiner."
"Pleased to meet you sir," I said, also shaking his hand.
"Well, I best be going. I'm on my way to drop off this hair sample to Nick," Doc Robbins said to me as he walked off.
Continuing to walk, we stopped yet again.
"I may not do anything until day shift it seems. Just how many people am I going to be working with?" I said to myself.
"Cristina Miltadez, this is Captain Jim Brass; he's in charge of the city's Homicide Division."
"Hey kid. It's not all that bad working here. After a while you get used to the lack of sleep," Brass said with a small laugh as he too walked on.
"There's only one person left for you to meet," Grissom said to me, as though he could read my mind.
We walked up to a glass-walled room not quite in the center of the hallway and stopped. We then walked into the rather large room, which happened to be a very nice lab.
"Wow. I really hope this is where I'm working," I thought to myself.
Looking around, I saw someone at a microscope, their back to us, yet they knew we were in there.
"If you don't have evidence concerning the Chater case, just put it somewhere on that back counter and I might get to it soon."
"Greg, get up and come meet your new lab partner," Grissom said to him.
Greg, as his name happens to be, got off of the stool he was on and walked over to us, though for some reason, he was looking at the ground. As soon as he was standing in front of us, he straightened up, causing his neck to pop.
"That feels so much better," he said, looking up at the ceiling.
Then he looked at us, his smile becoming blank from lack of expression.
"Greg Sanders, meet your new lab partner, Cristina Miltadez," Grissom said.
"Oh.......my........God........"
