Disclaimer: I own neither CSI nor Frank Miller's Sin City (seeing as I'm not Frank Miller)
A/N: It helps to have seen the movie, which is gory and fantastic, especially if you're trying to picture what's going on. I'm trying my hand at film noir, so hold on to your mouse and feel free to click the 'review' button and tell me what you think.
PROLOGUE
The body was a mess, and the house was worse. The lurid colors the floodlights painted the crime scene made it look like a badly-colored comic book, one where the best intentions of the artist have been drawn and quartered by the colorist and inker in some kind of surreal double-cross. Animal control came by and picked up the wolf before the police cleared the scene; no point in getting one of your own injured.
Not that I always count as one of their own, but what can you do? There were enough crooked cops here to keep me safe enough.
"Not a pretty picture."
The wry comment comes from her cold lips, twisted into a smile that's going to get her into trouble one of these days. She got that from me, and I've never made the effort to take it back, much as I'd like to. It'd keep her safer than following my path will. She'd be better off to stay well away from me, and for more reasons than one.
"I was thinking the same thing. And without a head - or limbs - or most of his flesh - he's just sound and fury, signifying nothing."
A quote - my trademark. Have to have something to fall back on, especially with a mostly-eaten body on the Roark farm. Especially with that gut-wrenching knowledge in the pit of my stomach that this is going to be another one for my board - not the fish board of unsolved, but my devil-board, the one nobody else gets to see. The one that has every case solved that got buried or bribed till no one rightly remembered what had really happened. No one but the evidence, which was almost as easy to silence as a witness. The Roarks - Senator Roark and his power-grabbing brother - were going to have their people on the scene as quickly as they could. Sara and I, though, we had a good half-hour before Roark's pet CSIs showed up to take over the case, and if we worked quick, we might find out what happened.
"Interesting. Rubber hoses . . ." She bends down, inspecting the corpse and the blunt bones that emerged from the ragged flesh of the corpse's limbs. "I don't think a wolf killed this kid, Grissom. Or at least, this was no random attack. He's been murdered, and not in a nice way either."
She gives me a look, and we both know damn well what's happened here. Robbins can confirm it, but this is just another piece of the misshapen puzzle that is the Roark family and even Sin City itself. "No death is nice, Sara."
"His limbs were chopped off before that wolf got anywhere near him, Griss. What did this kid do to make somebody that mad at him? Even in this town . . ."
"In this town, Sara, anything's possible."