A woman in a blue suit with a jacket over her arm and a suitcase on the other walked in. She was followed by an older man in a gray suit and other people walked in with badges.

'Must be detectives' Adam thought to himself as the elevator doors closed.

They went down two more floors before 'thump'. The elevator stopped suddenly. It shook just a little. The lights flickered slightly. The others weren't too bothered. The woman was just startled and swore out of surprise. The older man just pressed the emergency button. Adam was the only one shook up, enough to grab the handle bars attached to the walls. He gripped them so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"What the hell happened?" one detective asked.

"The elevator stopped." The other replied.

"Just great." The woman said sarcastically.

"The maintenance should have fixed this months ago." The older man added as he repeatedly pushed the emergency button.

"Hey," the first detective turned to the pale lab tech. "You ok?" he asked.

"I am." He answered. Then he realized he was still holding on to dear life via the handle bars. "Sorry, just a little jumpy." He apologized, slowly loosening his grip.

He really was ok. He's not claustrophobic or anything. He's been stuck in an elevator before. There's nothing to worry about. He knew that. He's been so uneasy today. It's like he's ready to jump out of his own skin. This situation was not helping.

Five minutes ticked on, before 'thump.' The elevator began to function again just like how it stopped. It shook a little and the lights ever so slightly. Then it just went on like nothing happened.

"Thank God." The woman exclaimed as the others just went back to normal, waiting patiently to get down to the lobby.

Adam wasn't as startled as before. He did reach out for the handle bars, but slowly let go when he realized that the elevator was just moving again.

He chuckles to himself, thinking how stupid he must have looked to them. He should just relax he tells himself then takes deep calming breaths. Then he remembers what he was thinking about earlier.

The gunmen were standing just outside the truck, out of earshot talking amongst themselves. He breathes deeply almost blowing on the small burns he had on his hands. He looks at the uniform officers in front of him and they gave each other worried looks. The only one who didn't look as worried was the man sitting right next to him.

Danny was craning his neck, checking if any of the Irishmen were looking at them. He was still clutching his broken hand close to his chest. Then with his free and good hand he took out his badge. Adam didn't know why, he could only look on. The CSI put his badge on the palm of his broken hand. Slowly but surely he pushed it up to his deformed fingers. He pushed a little bit more; to get his hand back to its normal shape and just held the badge in place.

"Adam," he called out to him.

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, Danny."

"Is that your kit over there?" he asked, nodding to the silver kit just outside the truck.

"Yeah," he answered. "That's mine."

"Good, good." He added. "You got everything inside there?" he asked.

"Yeah," he answered.

"What you got in there?" he asked. Then he ripped his white sleeve.

"Swabs, baggies, black light…" he was about to go on.

"Any chemicals?" he asked, cutting the other man off. Then he continued to rip his sleeve.

"Yeah, ethanol alcohol, hydrochloric acid…" he answered.

"Hydrochloric acid?" he asked and the other man just nodded."That's good, good." He added with a small smile.

"Why?" the lab tech asked worried and scared.

"Adam, I need you to do something." He replied as he wrapped the clean fabric around his hand and badge to keep his broken fingers in place. "I need you to go out there."

"What? No." he replied even more worried and more scared.

"I need you to go out there." The CSI continued as if he didn't hear the lab techs refusal. "I need you to get to your kit and get the hydrochloric acid."

"No," he repeated himself. "I can't."

"We'll need it." He replied just as calmly as before, as if he didn't hear him.

"Danny, I can't" he said again.

"Adam," he called to him sternly, looking straight into the younger man's fearful eyes. "You will go out there. You will go to your kit and you will get the hydrochloric acid."

Adam knew that voice. He knew that tone of voice very well, and he did what he could only do.

"Ok." He replied still scared, but what else could he do.

"Ok," the CSI repeated his words.

"But how?" he asked.

Before the older man heard the question, he was already up off. He held his broken hand in his in his other hand, holding it close to his chest. Quickly, he stood up and ran and jumped out of the truck, leaving the other officers and a frightened Adam to his own devices.

"Yo, Irish bastards." Danny yelled as he jumped out and off the truck then ran off.

"Get him." One of the gang members yelled as they chased the bespectacled man almost out of the warehouse.

When he saw the guys in ski masks ran after Danny, Adam took that as his cue. Quickly but quietly he jumped out of the truck, leaving the tied and gagged officers. He crouched down on the floor as he crept closer to his kit. He opened it and looked for the bottle of hydrochloric acid. As soon as he got it, he went back to the truck.

"Thought you could get away, did ya?" Adam heard one of the gunmen asked sarcastically.

"Just thought I go for a little walk," Danny's voice replied just as sarcastically. "Get some fresh air."

"Fresh air?" An Irish accent asked with a chuckle. Then he heard a loud thump then Danny grunted in pain.

He didn't see any of it, but he knew what was happening. He cowered in the corner of the van, clutching the newly acquired bottle. He could hear them. They were beating him up. Danny was clearly in pain, but he was either tough enough or stupid enough to actually talk back to them.

This oddly felt familiar: Hiding nearby as someone else was getting beat up, feeling like as if he couldn't do anything, nothing to help, feeling like a coward. This felt way too familiar. He clutched the bottle, his knuckles turning as white as the bottle itself.

In his head, he was back in Phoenix, Arizona. He was back in that alley, hiding behind a dumpster listening to him getting beat up. He was back to being a useless kid, a ten year old, who couldn't do much of anything but run when he was told to and hide when he was suppose to.

Then he remembered earlier. The voice Danny used on him just a few minutes earlier. He remembers who he reminded him of. 'They even had the same tone of voice.' Adam thought. It was that tone of voice that he couldn't refuse. It always left him no room for any other option, other than what it told him. If it told him to do something he'd do it: It told him to leave, he left. It told him to run, he ran. He couldn't do anything else.

'Ding' the elevator doors opened. They finally reached the lobby.