Thanks so much for those of you who reviewed! Enjoy!
"Alright," Grissom said, sounding almost impatient, as everyone gathered in the conference room. "What have we got?"
"Well it seems pretty clear this guy is good," Nick started, spreading out the crime scene photos. "He's methodical, knows what he's doing, and he definitely knows how to improvise."
"We also think there's only one person who's planning it," Abby said from her video call, "like some kind of whacko criminal mastermind. The other guys are expendable. That's why he never shows up in front of the camera."
"He also, though," Hawkes said, contradicting that statement, "seems to be changing his M.O. Something about Greg set him off, and Greg paid the price for it."
"Greg seems sure they're still in the Vegas area," Grissom said, "and, he wants you guys to know it's not your fault." He locked eyes with each of the gathered members of his team. "Any of yours, no matter what this man says."
It was silent for a few moments as they took that into stride, and then Lassiter spoke up.
"Sanders wasn't lured to the scene," he said. "It looks like he just walked in on the middle of something."
"Now all we have to do is figure out what they were doing," Catherine said.
Grissom cleared his throat. "Gibbs, Mac, and I have looked through our files to see if there is anyone who would have a serious grudge against Greg or me, but so far we've come up empty."
"The blood that Greg sent us in running in CODIS now," Sara said. "And Archie is attempting to clear up those pictures, too."
"In Shawn's video," Juliet said, "he says that the same person who kidnapped him in Santa Barbara was one of the people who beat him. He called him Mask and said he looked way different, so that means that they didn't wear masks again to beat him."
"Speaking of which," Archie Johnson said, swinging into the room, "I was able to slow down the video enough to get a clear pic on two of the men."
"Great," Grissom said, sounding a little more hopeful, "run them; see if you can get a match."
"Already did," Abby said from her tv screen. She beamed at Archie. "That is one smart dude, Gibbs. Anyways, they're hitmen, both of them, wanted in at least eight states and four other countries."
The pictures popped up on a separate screen, one of a man with blonde hair in his thirties and the other of a slightly older man with dark brown hair and mean brown eyes. Their names came back as "Shifty" and "Hookman".
Gus made a face. "Those guys have no imagination."
"I know, right?" Abby responded, smiling a bit at the African American. "I was just about to say that."
"Anything concrete, Abs?" Gibbs interrupted.
The goth girl shook her head. "Sorry Gibbs, no one knows their real names. They're like ghosts."
"Alright," Mac said, sitting back in his chair. "Let me get this straight. We have four guys who've been kidnapped and tortured by a psycho who thinks they're underappreciated because he might be too. We're pretty sure they're in Vegas and that they have seen the guy's face. At some point or another we're going to get a tape with psychological torture, where he tries to turn our guys against us, but we don't know because his M.O. is changing. We think that something in Greg or in Grissom set off his anger. And for some reason he doesn't want his victims' face to be damaged. As far as accomplices go, we have two hit men, two more pictures to clear up, and blood in CODIS."
He looked around the room. "So we got nothing?"
"So far," Gibbs said, but the way he said it was different then the hopelessness he felt. The way he said it made it sound like it didn't matter that they had nothing. He, they, would catch the bastard who took their people, and they would do it without evidence if they had to.
It seemed like everyone else agreed.
Before anything else could be discussed, a tech ran into the room. In his hands was a tape.
"Uh-oh," Abby said at the same time. "Gibbs, we have two tapes here…"
Simultaneously Lassiter's cell phone rang.
Everyone looked at each other, eyes wide. "There's no way," Gus said, his voice incredulous. "The timing is… impeccable! There's no way they could get that right!"
"Yeah," Lassiter said as he flipped the phone open. He closed his eyes. "Right. Okay. No problem, Chief. Can you stream it to this computer?"
He held the phone out to Archie, who said the IP address quickly, like he'd memorized it, which he probably had. Abby did the same thing, popping both tapes into separate VCRs and streaming them from the tv to the computer.
Four separate screens popped up. Each member was looking scruffy and rugged, the blood dried on their shirts but still having the same effect as if it had just been done.
Mac paused the other ones and started in order to what was on each screen. The first was Greg, and he sat slumped in the chair, glaring at whoever was behind the screen. The way he was positioned made the members of his team wince; they knew it must be painful where the cuts were.
"You know why you're here?" the same methodical voice asked, almost gently.
Greg raised a brow. "I dumped my spaghetti on the school bully?"
Nick snickered, while Gus and Gibbs rolled their eyes, figuring he'd been hanging out with both Shawn and Tony to pick up the retort.
"You're here because nobody cared," the voice said as if he'd never spoken. "You're here because Gilbert Grissom sent you to a crime scene by yourself knowing your back up wouldn't help you."
The CSI stiffened, his eyes narrowing at the man, wondering what he meant by that.
"Poor, poor Greg," the voice cooed. "If it weren't for Grissom, you wouldn't be here."
"You're right," Greg said. Grissom did a double take, but before the hurt could penetrate his heart Greg went on. "You're right. Without Gris I wouldn't be a CSI. I would still be in the lab running DNA tests. That might be safer, but it sure isn't as fun as doing field work." He leaned his body as close to the man as he could. "And I'd take this any day."
"Tell 'em, Greg," Nick whispered.
The man didn't seem to like his answer very much. Without warning he darted into the picture, back handed him across the face, and darted back out.
Everyone jumped. This had happened in less then three seconds, and by the time it was over Greg's head had been whipped back, hitting the back of the chair with his temple. He slumped, dazed, in the chair, only the ropes holding him up.
Grissom didn't get angry very much. He knew that was exactly what this man was trying to do. It wasn't so much to hurt Greg then to hurt him. That was, after all, why they sent the videos here. The CSI grave shift team didn't give up on their guys easily, and he doubted any of the other people here did, either.
Greg's video ended seconds after the outburst of anger the man had. Lassiter suspected it was because he had messed up, gotten angry. He wondered why it was Greg that made him so out of control, especially when Shawn's mouth was way worse then his.
Speaking of the psychic, his video was next. Shawn was sitting in the chair, not as slumped as Greg was but definitely getting there.
"You do know how stupid you look, right?"
"Stupid?" Shawn scoffed. "First of all, don't talk to me about stupid, idiot. You're the one who decided to go postal on law enforcement officers. That's just plain dumb. Stupid doesn't even cut it."
The man growled. "You pretend to be psychic to solve people's problems.
"Pretend?" He looked wounded. "Why would I try to scam my clients? The spirits talk to me. It's a gift, and one that is very helpful, thank you very much."
"Nobody likes you," the voice went on. "You're immature and annoying. You have no idea what you're doing. Half the time you walk right into trouble and everyone is always pulling your slack. You use people to do what you want them to do."
As he spoke the teams noticed the psychic getting more and more tense, like he was being lectured by his father. Shawn probably thought that he was right but didn't want to admit it.
"Your friends pity you. The only reason Gus is still with you is because you actually make most of the money, believe it or not."
Gus' reaction was the same as Shawn's in the video. Both spat out a swear words, but Shawn continued from there.
"Gus is the greatest friend there ever was, and don't you dare say anything that might make him think otherwise," Shawn growled.
The man chuckled. "That's what you think. I'd bet Gus is glad to get rid of you. Heaven knows Lassiter is, and Jules… poor Jules has been stuck with you for four years. Four, Shawn, and nobody deserves that."
"Don't call her that," Shawn said, his voice taking an even colder tone to it, sounding icy. "Only I can call her that."
And he was right.
"You think you're so good at what you do," the voice continued. "You think you can get away with anything. You put everyone you love in danger. It was only a few months ago when your girlfriend was almost killed, wasn't it?"
"Leave them out of this!" Shawn exploded.
Everyone leaned back, blinking as they watched the cool, collected psychic finally lose his temper.
"You son of a bitch, leave them out," he said. "They know me, they love me, they're all I got left. You can do whatever you want to me but they will always, always be my friends, and my family, and there is nothing you can do about it."
It was silent for a moment as Shawn panted after his outburst, glaring at the man behind the camera. Then the screen went black.
Juliet let out a long breath.
"That was… enlightening…" Mac said carefully, gauging Shawn's friends' reactions.
Lassiter hit the table and stalked out of the room. Gus uncurled the fingers he had clenched into a fist and put his face in his hands. The only thing Juliet did was take yet another deep breath, attempting to look professional and failing.
After all of that Gibbs and Mac weren't sure they wanted to see what the video had to offer.
"Are they okay?" Abby asked from her screen. Gibbs looked at her and stepped back to show Gus and Juliet still trying to get a hold of themselves.
"I don't think any of us are fine, Abby," Gus said quietly. "Especially after that."
"Sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head and tried a small smile. "We're fine. It's Shawn I'm worried about."
"Adam," Hawkes breathed.
Mac knew what he meant. Adam wasn't like Shawn and Tony, not even like Greg. If this was going to affect anyone worse, it would be Adam.
But there wasn't much they could do about it, because his video was up next.
The CSI looked tired, like he wanted nothing more then to go to sleep and wake up and have this be one really big, really bad nightmare.
"Your boss is an idiot," the voice informed Adam calmly.
Adam sighed. "Mac isn't an idiot."
"No?" The man chuckled a bit. "He should've never let you go home. Funny how that works, isn't it? If he made you stay you would've been processing evidence until the rest of the morning. It would've been hell, but definitely better then this."
"That doesn't make him stupid."
"It makes him stupid to challenge me," the voice sneered. "I've been tracking you for a while now, Adam. You never stood a chance. But you might've, if Mac would've turned down this one case. You would be safe. And he wouldn't be stupid."
They were silent as Adam took that in.
"So, your father abused you as a kid, right?"
Adam's head snapped up, his eyes wide as fear snaked its way into his emotions. "What?"
"No," Mac said under his breath.
"What did he do? Did he touch you? Hit you? Say mean things?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Everyone could hear the shake in his voice.
"I'd bet he told you that your dreams were never going to come true. I bet he told you you were a geek, and stupid, and you would be poor for the rest of your life."
"Shut up!"
"So I suppose Mac does too, then, right?"
Adam opened his eyes for a moment. "W—what?"
"In certain ways, he beats down your dreams. Just like your father. I'd bet the others do, too."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
"You're a liar," Adam spat, turning away. Any more prodding from the man resulted in dirty looks. He was done.
The screen went black.
Danny turned and punched the wall, then jumped back, shaking his hand as his knuckled burned.
Gibbs looked at his agents, who were tense and on edge as they waited for Tony's turn. Each were wondering what the man would say about them, trying to brace themselves. Gibbs didn't think it would work.
As Tony flickered to life on the screen, yawning a bit and looking completely relaxed despite the fact that he was tied to a chair. His act didn't fool anyone.
"So, Agent DiNozzo," the voice started.
"That's Special Agent to you," Tony corrected. A quick smile flashed across his face. "Sorry, that line never gets old."
Gibbs rolled his eyes.
"Special Agent DiNozzo," the man said, correcting himself. "What exactly do you do for the team?"
Tony thought for a moment. "I keep them laughing. I find quick leads in places they wouldn't dream of looking. I'm one of the best under cover agents ever to come to NCIS. Uh…"
"And would you say people appreciate you?"
"Oh, no," Tony said, laughing. "I see what you're trying to do. See, Adam told us about this case and despite what you think, I am very well loved."
"You sure about that, Agent DiNozzo?" the voice chuckled. "Your boss slaps you on the head like an owner to a dog. That doesn't seem like appreciation to me."
"That's just his way of showing he cares," Tony said, but the smile had frozen on his face. The atmosphere turned icy.
"He treats you like you're five," the man said. "Are you five, Agent DiNozzo?"
"Special Agent," Tony snapped. "Does it look like I'm five, Mr. Sixty three?"
Something flew across the room and hit Tony in a chest. He let out a sharp cry of pain as it hit one of the beaten parts and slid into his lap, where he was doubled over as he fought to breathe.
"Say nothing," the man hissed.
Gibbs didn't like it. But it was good, what Tony was doing. Anything more would be great.
"Okay, so you're touchy on your age," Tony shrugged. "Don't worry, most men are when you're old and wrinkly."
Gibbs thought he was going to hit him again, but instead the man laughed.
"Your teammates appreciate that smart mouth of yours? And I'm sure they've tried to get back at you at some point or another. You've never been excluded from team activities?"
Tony's face went dark for a minute, and Gibbs could pick out which specific time he'd been left out. A flash of guilt ripped through his chest.
"What about that time you saved your boss and his friend from drowning in that car? Did he even say thank you?"
No. Gibbs never had.
"And what about your father? You had pneumonic plague, and he never came. He was too busy with work, and didn't have time for poor Agent DiNozzo, dying from an extinct disease."
"He didn't know," he protested.
"He might've," the voice countered, "if Gibbs had told him. Did you ever think that your boss might not actually like you enough to keep you around?"
Tony remained silent, glaring up at the man. He did the same thing Adam did, and was equally successful. After a few more moments of prodding, the screen went blank.
"You okay?"
Greg snorted. "No."
"Oh," Shawn said, leaning back against the chair. "Me neither."
"Me neither," Adam said pitifully.
"Well, join the club," Tony muttered.
"What kind of torture was that?" Shawn demanded after a minute of silence. "I've never been that riled up before. Not even Yang. Not even Yin."
"I don't think I've ever hurt that bad," Adam muttered. "That was so hard… he seemed to know everything about me!"
"He did," Tony pointed out. "He knew about events that nobody should've known about. I mean, the fact that I had plague was classified to keep from spreading world wide panic."
"You had plague?" the other four repeated in unison.
"I don't know if I should be proud of that," he replied under his breath. "But yeah. And it hurt. Don't try that at home, kiddies."
"Not planning on it," Shawn said, sighing. "So what does that tell us?"
They shrugged. "You're the psychic." Tony pointed out, sounding slightly sarcastic.
Shawn glared at him. "Well if you hadn't noticed, being kidnapped seems to mess with the spirits' mood. I haven't heard a peep from them since I got here."
"So I guess you need to use that detective part of your brain," Greg suggested. "We know that this guy has some major issues with me. Why?"
"Good question," Adam said. "Even though you weren't targeted, something in him made him so pissed off he'd go to some serious lengths to make sure your boss suffered."
"What I want to know," Tony said dramatically, "is what is it he doesn't like?"
"And is it me, or Grissom?" Greg wondered.
"How the hell are we getting out of here?" Adam asked. "The psychological torture is over. The next time they come in here, somebody's dying."
They fell silent as the four men looked at each other. The countdown for survival started now. Any one of them could be next.