Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry these chapters took so long. School has been WAY stressful, and my teachers threatened me with detention if I didn't stop writing in class. But I did anyway! Tehehe, hope you all like these!
Spoilers: None, yo!
Disclaimer: No tengo un CSI characters. No me gusta el TPTB. Son muy, muy, muy, antisimpatico!! Sorry, just practicing for my Spanish test!
Rain fell gently onto the grass outside the boarded window as day turned to night. The basement grew darker as the sun set and the clouds grew thicker. Soon, thunder rolled through the night sky, foreshadowing of the danger to come.
As soon as the second boom of thunder sounded, the basement door swung open. Laughter echoed off the bare walls as the man walked down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he flicked on the flashlight, and swept the light over Grissom and Sara's wary faces.
"Hello again," he said as he set the light onto the ground.
Grissom and Sara stared.
"I bet you're hungry," he said.
A hand reached into his pocket, and the crinkle of wrappers could be heard. He pulled out a couple of granola bars and tossed them to the floor. Instinct and gurgling stomachs told the two CSI's to reach for the bars, but they sat still.
"It's ok," he laughed, "I didn't poison them, if that's what you think. I need you alive in order to get my ransom."
"Ransom?" whispered Sara.
"Yes, ransom. I want more out of this then the satisfaction that I beat Las Vegas's most elite CSI's."
"And you think they're going to pay it?" said Grissom, anticipating a blow to his body.
The man laughed as he sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. He stuck a hand into his pocket as he leaned back. For the first time, they caught a glimpse of his face as the glow from the flashlight caught it in the dark.
Stringy black hair hung down in front of his shadowy, cold eyes, which were framed with thick glasses. His skin was pale and clammy, and most likely cold to the touch. Sweat glistened near his hairline. He was young, too young it seemed, to be holding two people hostage. He couldn't have been older then 25.
"They better if they want you back," he said confidently.
Sara squinted in the dim light to meet his eyes. They stared through her, unfeeling. She winced and looked away.
Grissom, though, was formulating a plan. If there was a ransom, this guy might try to get away, and he wasn't going to let that happen without getting their captor's name first.
"We'll probably be here awhile then," he said calmly, "We should be able to call you something. What's your name?"
The man's eyes squinted in confusion, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I know what you're trying to do," he whispered.
"He's right, though," said Sara, "Maybe we'd trust you more if you had a name, and you weren't just the man who's holding us hostage."
The man stared at them for a minute, his eyes unfocused, thinking. He sighed.
"Mark."
Grissom bit his bottom lip, "Mark. Good, I feel a lot better already."
Sara nodded slowly in agreement. Mark stood up from the stairs and walked over to kneel in front of Grissom. He leaned forward, his face just inches from Grissom's. His breath was hot against Grissom's face.
"Don't think I'm not onto you're game, Mr. Grissom. I know your every move. There is no way you can win this."
He stood up slowly and looked down on Grissom. He smiled, then turned to Sara. With one swift motion, his leg met her stomach, and she flew backwards with a cry. Grissom yelled and pushed past him towards Sara.
"Bastard!" he yelled.
"Just keep in mind, Grissom, that anything you say or do here can hurt her just as much as it can you."
He walked back up the stairs, and as quickly as he had came, he was gone.
Grissom turned back to Sara, catching a tear with his thumb. She turned to face him.
"Sara, I'm so sorry," he said behind his own tears.
"S'ok," she said as she tried to catch her breath, "just hold me, ok?"
Gently, Grissom took her into his arms, and for the rest of the night they sat in silence, hoping the morning would come faster then they knew it would.
"$10 million?" said Nick in disbelief.
"Yeah," said Brass.
Everyone sat quietly in the break room. News of the ransom had come at the exact time as the news that Nick and Greg hadn't found anything promising at the crime scene. Just a few drops of blood in a bedroom near the original scene, and they were sure those would come back as either Grissom or Sara.
"How are we going to do this? Las Vegas won't give $10 million dollars to a kidnapper. They barely give it away to the tourists," said Warrick.
"We'll get it," said Catherine, leaning back in her chair, "For two of the cities best CSI's, they'll find it."
"Do we know how much time we have?" asked Greg from the end of the table.
As if on cue, a cell phone rang. Everyone turned to Brass. He took out his phone and flipped it open. Pressing it to his ear, he stood from his chair.
"Captain Brass. How nice to speak to you again," said Mark from the other end, "I assume you're discussing the ransom?"
"You know what they say when you assume," mumbled Brass.
"Such a sense of humor," said Mark coldly, "But I'd watch just how friendly you get. I've already had to punish Grissom for getting smart with me, and Sara's paid a price for his mouth too."
Brass cringed, "Lay another hand on either of them, and not only will I make sure you don't get your money, but I'll see to it personally that you don't ever see the light of day again."
Harsh laughter echoed through the phone. The voice took a deep breath.
"I'll get my ransom, unless, of course, you want to start looking for two bodies. You've got twenty-four hours. You'll take the money to the underpass on Elizabeth and Bradley. I'll see you then."
The phone went silent.
"Damn it," said Brass as he sat back down, "He's hurt them. He didn't say how much, but he's 'punished them' for something."
"That bastard," said Nick, shaking his head.
"We've got less time then we thought," said Brass.
"How long?" asked Catherine, sitting up.
"Twenty-four hours."
"Then we've got a lot of work to do. Let's get cracking," she said as she stood up.
Everyone left the break room. The clock was ticking.
Spoilers: None, yo!
Disclaimer: No tengo un CSI characters. No me gusta el TPTB. Son muy, muy, muy, antisimpatico!! Sorry, just practicing for my Spanish test!
Rain fell gently onto the grass outside the boarded window as day turned to night. The basement grew darker as the sun set and the clouds grew thicker. Soon, thunder rolled through the night sky, foreshadowing of the danger to come.
As soon as the second boom of thunder sounded, the basement door swung open. Laughter echoed off the bare walls as the man walked down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he flicked on the flashlight, and swept the light over Grissom and Sara's wary faces.
"Hello again," he said as he set the light onto the ground.
Grissom and Sara stared.
"I bet you're hungry," he said.
A hand reached into his pocket, and the crinkle of wrappers could be heard. He pulled out a couple of granola bars and tossed them to the floor. Instinct and gurgling stomachs told the two CSI's to reach for the bars, but they sat still.
"It's ok," he laughed, "I didn't poison them, if that's what you think. I need you alive in order to get my ransom."
"Ransom?" whispered Sara.
"Yes, ransom. I want more out of this then the satisfaction that I beat Las Vegas's most elite CSI's."
"And you think they're going to pay it?" said Grissom, anticipating a blow to his body.
The man laughed as he sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. He stuck a hand into his pocket as he leaned back. For the first time, they caught a glimpse of his face as the glow from the flashlight caught it in the dark.
Stringy black hair hung down in front of his shadowy, cold eyes, which were framed with thick glasses. His skin was pale and clammy, and most likely cold to the touch. Sweat glistened near his hairline. He was young, too young it seemed, to be holding two people hostage. He couldn't have been older then 25.
"They better if they want you back," he said confidently.
Sara squinted in the dim light to meet his eyes. They stared through her, unfeeling. She winced and looked away.
Grissom, though, was formulating a plan. If there was a ransom, this guy might try to get away, and he wasn't going to let that happen without getting their captor's name first.
"We'll probably be here awhile then," he said calmly, "We should be able to call you something. What's your name?"
The man's eyes squinted in confusion, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I know what you're trying to do," he whispered.
"He's right, though," said Sara, "Maybe we'd trust you more if you had a name, and you weren't just the man who's holding us hostage."
The man stared at them for a minute, his eyes unfocused, thinking. He sighed.
"Mark."
Grissom bit his bottom lip, "Mark. Good, I feel a lot better already."
Sara nodded slowly in agreement. Mark stood up from the stairs and walked over to kneel in front of Grissom. He leaned forward, his face just inches from Grissom's. His breath was hot against Grissom's face.
"Don't think I'm not onto you're game, Mr. Grissom. I know your every move. There is no way you can win this."
He stood up slowly and looked down on Grissom. He smiled, then turned to Sara. With one swift motion, his leg met her stomach, and she flew backwards with a cry. Grissom yelled and pushed past him towards Sara.
"Bastard!" he yelled.
"Just keep in mind, Grissom, that anything you say or do here can hurt her just as much as it can you."
He walked back up the stairs, and as quickly as he had came, he was gone.
Grissom turned back to Sara, catching a tear with his thumb. She turned to face him.
"Sara, I'm so sorry," he said behind his own tears.
"S'ok," she said as she tried to catch her breath, "just hold me, ok?"
Gently, Grissom took her into his arms, and for the rest of the night they sat in silence, hoping the morning would come faster then they knew it would.
"$10 million?" said Nick in disbelief.
"Yeah," said Brass.
Everyone sat quietly in the break room. News of the ransom had come at the exact time as the news that Nick and Greg hadn't found anything promising at the crime scene. Just a few drops of blood in a bedroom near the original scene, and they were sure those would come back as either Grissom or Sara.
"How are we going to do this? Las Vegas won't give $10 million dollars to a kidnapper. They barely give it away to the tourists," said Warrick.
"We'll get it," said Catherine, leaning back in her chair, "For two of the cities best CSI's, they'll find it."
"Do we know how much time we have?" asked Greg from the end of the table.
As if on cue, a cell phone rang. Everyone turned to Brass. He took out his phone and flipped it open. Pressing it to his ear, he stood from his chair.
"Captain Brass. How nice to speak to you again," said Mark from the other end, "I assume you're discussing the ransom?"
"You know what they say when you assume," mumbled Brass.
"Such a sense of humor," said Mark coldly, "But I'd watch just how friendly you get. I've already had to punish Grissom for getting smart with me, and Sara's paid a price for his mouth too."
Brass cringed, "Lay another hand on either of them, and not only will I make sure you don't get your money, but I'll see to it personally that you don't ever see the light of day again."
Harsh laughter echoed through the phone. The voice took a deep breath.
"I'll get my ransom, unless, of course, you want to start looking for two bodies. You've got twenty-four hours. You'll take the money to the underpass on Elizabeth and Bradley. I'll see you then."
The phone went silent.
"Damn it," said Brass as he sat back down, "He's hurt them. He didn't say how much, but he's 'punished them' for something."
"That bastard," said Nick, shaking his head.
"We've got less time then we thought," said Brass.
"How long?" asked Catherine, sitting up.
"Twenty-four hours."
"Then we've got a lot of work to do. Let's get cracking," she said as she stood up.
Everyone left the break room. The clock was ticking.