.here we are now, entertain us.

Apartment of David Waters
& Abdullah Ali
Sunday, July 25th

"Abdullah, put the knife down and we can talk this over," Olivia said calmly.

"No, no, Detective Benson. We can talk just as well with the knife as without it so I really don't see a reason for me to put it down, other than the fact that you find it threatening and it might get me a bullet in the gut." Abdullah Ali said, grinning from where he stood on the right side of the bed. His white teeth contrasted wildly with his dark skin, just as the red blood present all over the bed contrasted with the room's predominately white color scheme.

There was one other occupant of the room: David Waters, who was spread out on the bed with his hands tied to the two corners and his feet bound together and tied to the footboard. He was pale and, from what Olivia could see, bleeding profusely from the mock crucifixion puncture wounds through his forearms and feet. His chest was bare and that gave her a fine view of the hack job Abdullah had performed on the man's ribcage. How David hadn't bled to death by now was beyond Olivia but, by the man's shallow breathing and the listless way that he lay, she doubted that he had very much time left.

Abdullah's grin stayed fixed on his face as he continued, "I don't care if I die or not. I'm here to preach my message and if you want to make me a martyr, go right on ahead."

In the short silence that followed as Olivia and Elliot thought frantically for a solution to the situation they were presented with, Abdullah looked down at his roommate—his victim—for a moment and then looked up again. "You wouldn't mind taking a seat, would you, detective?" He gestured with his free hand towards a chair on the right of the door. "I wouldn't mind a little bit of conversation before this showdown ends and by the looks of David here, it's all going to end very soon."

Abdullah cocked his head to his side and watched her hesitate. "I don't mind if you keep your gun, detective, even if it's aimed at me," he assured her. "I just want to talk a bit. Isn't that what you police prefer anyway? Talk over bloodshed?"

Olivia took a small step forward, keeping her gun trained on Abdullah. He curled his bloody fingers at her, beckoning her forward encouragingly. "Yeah, that's it. Come on in and let's act civilized." The words were so out of place in the insane situation that the detectives were in that Olivia had to fight from laughing at them, or at least cracking a smile. God only knew how Abdullah would react to being laughed at.

Olivia took a look around the room as she thought. Other than David's bleeding body on the bed, the room was orderly and clean and devoid of any other living beings. Abdullah watched her with his dark, intelligent eyes from where he stood by the bed and stroked his chin with his bloody left hand in a thoughtful, mocking gesture. "What are you looking at, detective? A partner in crime? By now, you should have guessed that I work alone."

"Is that what you call it, Abdullah?" Elliot asked from where he stood behind Olivia. "Working? Looks a lot like murder to me."

His eyes narrowed and he pressed the knife in his hand against David's neck threateningly, making a small amount of blood well up under the sharp blade. "Be careful, Detective Stabler. I'm not afraid to put this sinner out of his misery should you provoke me."

Something clicked together in Olivia's mind, like a puzzle falling into place, and she spoke confidently, "I don't think you'll do it, Abdullah. You wouldn't let him off so easily. Simply cutting his throat like that won't work; not for what you're planning. You like your sacrifices more elaborate than that. To better gain God's attention to them."

"That might be so, Detective Benson," he conceded with a small, acknowledging nod, "but any more delaying on either of our parts is going to ensure that my friend here dies without my help."

"See, Abdullah, that's what I don't get," Olivia continued. She had to keep him talking because she was at a loss as to what else to do and the fact that he had a knife to a man's throat as he slowly bled to death wasn't helping the situation much, "he's your friend. You've know him since you were both kids. Why are you doing this to him?"

"He is unclean," Abdullah stated simply in a soft voice as he looked down on his friend. With a gentle, almost loving expression on his face, he smoothed back the blonde, clammy hair that was clinging to David's forehead, the blood on his fingers leaving grotesque streaks to dry there on the man's ghost-white skin like some wild native war paint.

Abdullah looked up to meet Olivia's eyes once more, his expression fading away to be replaced by an icy stare. "Do you want to see how it's done, detective?" he asked, his voice barely above as whisper as his eyes betrayed a complete absence of human emotion. Before Olivia's mind could register what he was saying, he had turned, leaned forward and both of his hands were gone, disappearing into the bloody mess that David's chest had become. David gasped in pain at the sensation as his pale blue eyes stared upwards, focused on the ceiling as he murmured indistinguishable words, perhaps a prayer to God.

Olivia didn't know who shot first—she or Elliot—but the two bullets exploded nearly simultaneously towards the murderer. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for a few precious moments and Olivia imagined that she saw the two pieces of metal ripping through the air as Abdullah's ears still had yet to recognize the sound of guns firing.

Then time returned to its normal flow as one of the bullets missed, smashing into the wall, while the other slammed into Abdullah's shoulder. For a second, it seemed that he hadn't felt it and his brow remained furrowed in concentration as he moved his hands around in David's body. But then his eyes widened in shock as he looked over at his shoulder and the gaping gory wound that was there. His lips moved but no words were heard as he staggered backwards, his hands emerging bloody and dripping from David's chest.

Elliot ran forward and grabbed Abdullah while he was still in shock from the bullet wound, knocking the younger man to the ground where Elliot pinned him down and slapped a ready pair of handcuffs onto his wrists, the detective's hands becoming slick with the blood covering the other man. Olivia moved to the side of the bed and began talking to David as she tried to assess his condition. "David? David, can you hear me?" He was either too weak or too far gone to respond to her words though and so she turned, screaming to Munch and Fin, who were standing in the doorway, "Call a bus now!"

"Already did," Munch said, then glanced back out the door and down the hallway, the action almost nervous. "You might want to come see this."

Elliot stood up and touched Olivia's shoulder, the blood from his fingers leaving a mark on her jacket. "Go on. I'll look after him."

She nodded and followed Munch out of the room. He took her down the hallway to the other bedroom of the apartment. The door was open and Olivia's first clue as to what was contained inside was the twin trail of bloody footprints leading from that room to the bedroom she had just come out of. "John?" She looked at him and the sad expression that deepened the lines and age on his tired face told her what to expect.

Munch followed her into the room, talking as they stood in the only clear space in the carnage. "We found him when we were checking the rooms. He hasn't been dead for very long. His body's still warm. It looks like Abdullah tied David down in that chair there to watch while he did his thing." Munch pointed listlessly to a chair with rope still hanging from its arms and the imprint of someone's rear in its seat.

Olivia looked around at the blood-smeared walls, noting the place where "Leviticus 20:13" had been written above the bed. She stared at the mutilated body and fought not to feel anything. "Who is he?" she asked in a voice as soft as new fallen snow.

"Jeffrey Schakowsky," Munch answered, "a neighbor from one story up."