Summary: Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

Disclaimer: This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

Author's Note: Hmm, the last chapter seemed to be tough for people. Maybe…you shouldn't read this one then either. 'Tis another tough one (rating stands full for this one!). So, those weak of heart, maybe you want to go back and read, say, chapter 6 instead of this one. But thanks for everyone who made it this far and filled me in on their thoughts. If you venture forth and read this next addition, drop me a line and let me know what you think. I am still tweaking the ending so I can adjust it some more. Thanks for reading and see everyone on the wonderful day that is Sat. Bye!

Title: Poisonous Fear

By: duffshel

#19

Catherine stalked the halls of the lab. She didn't know what she was looking for or what she needed, but her feet made the decision to keep moving. Grissom had been gone for almost two hours now. It was two hours too long. And the cop escort hadn't done their job. They lost the CSI even before Grissom reached that park.

Worry ran throughout her blood and it called for action. But there was nothing to do. They had nothing. Nick and Warrick were missing with Grissom now along for the ride. She could only hope they were all together. It was the only thing she was willing to hope for at that moment.

Her feet took her on her second pass of Ecklie's office. This time the man inside too interest and Catherine was stopped by the calling of her name. No matter how many times she entered this room, she couldn't stop the involuntary tensing of her entire frame.

"Catherine, have a seat." Ecklie waved his hand and curved up one side of his mouth.

She pulled on the back of the chair and lowered her body down into it, "What can I do for you Conrad?"

The balding man in front of him rubbed a hand across the skin of his forehead as he cleared his throat, "I was just wondering how your case was going? With Grissom missing now as well, you are in charge of this."

Catherine couldn't believe the man across the desk. He sounded so bored with the situation. This man didn't seem to care about the loss of three CSI's at all.

"We are working on it, but we also have missing persons now. Greg and I are working on it."

"Good. I will let you get back to work then," Ecklie picked up his papers again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

With a sigh of disgust, Catherine got out of the chair and walked quickly from the room. He blew her off and the entire graveyard crew off. This man would never give them anything. He would never offer help or his own personal assistance. Catherine wondered what it would take to get rattle that man and get him to do something for someone else in the lab other than someone from the day crew.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The room had died down from the deafening laughter that had erupted before. Gil Grissom ignored the pain in his wrists and continued to try to get out of his chair. The cloaked figures had finally pulled Warrick off the now unconscious Nick. Whatever they had shot in the other man was enough to pacify him and make him pliable enough to get him back into his chair, arms once again behind him.

From the new position Grissom could see him clearly though he wished for a more full face view. Warrick had his chin glued to his chest as he took deep, shuttering breaths of air. His green eyes were downcast. He was trying to fight off the foreign substance floating through his blood.

Tenner had left the room with the promise of returning shortly. His goons were milling around making small talk. It was enough to cover anything Grissom wanted to attempt to say to the man in front of him.

"Warrick? Can you hear me?"

The other man's head jerked a little, but didn't rise. Grissom was not impressed, "Warrick! Look at me!"

It was finally enough to get through the buzzing filling Warrick's ears. His head hurt, pounded from front to back. But he didn't let it stop him from trying to find the source of the stern voice calling for his attention. Warrick almost seemed shocked to look directly at Grissom.

"Gris!"

"Are you alright, Warrick?"

Warrick laughed humorously, "You think I'm alright? Shit, man. I just did something I never thought I ever would."

His head rolled on his neck to face his partner, "He awake?"

"No, he went out after three punches. Warrick…this isn't your fault."

"Then whose is it? I threw the punches, my hands. Nick is out because of me."

Grissom took a deep breath and shook his head, "Look, you will have time to deal with this later, but right now, we need to figure out how we are going to get out of this."

"Well, there is no way we will be able to deal with everyone in the room at once. Especially if they release only one of us at a time."

Warrick really wasn't into the conversation and the response wasn't completely clear. He didn't care. He was busy trying to visually take check of Nick's condition. There was nothing he wanted more right at that moment than for the other man to wake up and start screaming at him.

He slowly rotated his head and tried to get his eyes back into focus. Something wasn't right about his body, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There were many voices in the room and they were itching at the back of his brain. Warrick shook his head fast and hard to get them out. They would not control him like they did before.

Grissom watched the other man almost give himself whiplash, but made no move to comment on it. He had a feeling both men were drugged back in Nick's house and whatever it was, still had control over them. It was probably what was allowing Tenner to get into Warrick's head so easily.

The moment he opened his mouth to offer another few words to Warrick, the door opened and Tenner slipped in. A new bag was in his right hand and something square and covered with in the left. The man walked with a balance, as if he was carrying full cups of water. Something couldn't be disturbed.

Both were placed carefully on the ground by the first row of chairs. Tenner didn't pay any attention to their guests. He walked over to a small group of four members. Grissom couldn't hear or see his mouth to know what was being said between them. But it wasn't too long before they left the room. It seemed odd to have four people leave.

Warrick noticed through his haze that Mike and Shaun didn't exit the room though. A tiny part of him was pleased because they would be present for a serious ass whopping when he got loose. Once the door was shut and that old man turned back to face them, he had to turn his eyes away. Looking at that scum made him sick to his stomach.

Even though it should disappoint him that Warrick was turning away from him, Tenner couldn't help, but to smile. Disgust would help his purpose. It appeared now that the black CSI would be the one he would use in the end. He would be the one to kill his friends. Just like Mr. White was the one to kill his own wife by lighting the match.

"Well, now that I sent off a few colleagues to finish up some business for me, we can get back to work in here. I want to see what we can get out of you with some more work."

The man reached down into his back and pulled out a large rectangle of black cloth. Grissom's brow shot down as he tried to figure it out. It was a little unconventional to be a gag. It would be too thick rolled up. Tenner turned his back to Grissom and he couldn't make out what was happening.

"First, Shaun. Would you be so kind and wake Nick back up? Unconsciousness doesn't work for this little experiment."

The man pushed his hood back and rubbed a hand over his forehead as he walked over to Nick. Warrick took in his features, but didn't see anything to make him stand out. He would be able to walk anywhere and not stand out as someone capable of torturing and killing people. But Warrick really didn't like the look of pure glee the man was wearing.

His hands were large and one was enough to cover Nick's entire face. The other hand buried itself deep in the short, brown hair. Shaun smiled wider when he heard the tiny man's neck crack in protest to being jerked backwards. Once he was satisfied with the placement of the head, he pulled his hand off the pale man's face.

Nick groaned when the hand slammed into his right ear. It sent sharp rings straight to the center of his entire being. He attempted to pull away from the source, but something was holding his hair tighter than really was needed. This was enough to force his eyes to open. The angle gave a good shot of Warrick and Grissom. Didn't know why, but they looked pissed about something.

"It is good to see those brown eyes once again, Mr. Stokes. I was wondering if you coped out on us already," Tenner walked closer, carefully taking in all the details.

Warrick growled, "Just leave him alone."

"Patience. I would begin to think you wanted more attention if you keep this up. Right now, you need to simply sit and watch. You will learn something, I promise."

The black cloth that Grissom had been trying to figure out looked different as he studied it while Tenner lectured towards Warrick. He knew it was pointless to talk at the man like that. Warrick only listened if you made him truly listen. So, Grissom studied the cloth instead. He couldn't figure out what was different about it though.

"Now, from what I can tell, your greatest fear Dr. Grissom is not being in control. You need some sort of power in every situation and when it is no longer there, you lose that cool exterior you work so hard to achieve. We are going to test that today."

Tenner walked so he was standing directly behind Nick, black cloth loose in his right hand. Warrick had to crane his neck to watch the scene play out. But Grissom had a front row seat with full view. And it was causing something to pull at his stomach.

"Being in control means you control your team. You know where they are, what they are doing, if they are breathing. You lose any of that, you lose control. How quickly though? That is what I am interested in. That and only that."

Grissom tried to open his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a rush of hot air as he watched Tenner slap the cloth flat over Nick's face. The sound implied something. The cloth was wet.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He could hear words being spoken, but what they actually formed was out of his league at that moment. Tenner's voice was deep and might have been soothing if the man had been some sort of relative. But now all it did was send chills through his entire body.

The skin on his face was tight and sore. Those punches, the ones he could remember, had been hard. Warrick didn't pull a single one. And the longer they went, the worst they got. But he wasn't about to blame him for a single one. Though he knew Warrick would apologize triple for each.

As time slowly ticked away, Nick could feel a presence come up behind him. The voice screamed that it was Tenner. Nick wanted nothing more than to jump from the chair he was tied to, but knew that the ropes could allow it. They were tight around the cast, pushing the hard plaster into his chest.

Something black flashed in his vision before sight was gone completely. It was heavy, cold, and wet. Nick didn't have any time to register what it was. His body went into full panic.

His mouth opened to scream, but all it accomplished was to pull the wet cloth tight against his lips. It closed off both ways to breath. Air would not flow through this black veil of death. Nick tried to shake it off, but it was being held tight at the back of his head.

White flashes of light were all he could see behind the now closed eyelids. The stale air left in his lungs tried to push its way out, but it was almost impossible. Moisture filled his nostrils. Sweat beaded on his neck and chest. He could hear someone yelling his name. Warrick.

Just as when he thought he was going to lose his grips with reality, the barrier was removed. Nick gulped in as much air as he could. His face was damp and cold. He didn't open his eyes.

Tenner remained behind the man and watched his reactions to the treatment. He stole glances at the other two CSI's to gauge them. Warrick was showing pure, raw rage. If the rope had been any weaker, Tenner was sure he would have broken his bonds and been on his feet already.

It was Grissom that amused him more though. His face was set, but it was clear by a quick study of his eyes, that he was scared. They man didn't know what to do or say. This is what he wanted.

"I must say, this is almost too easy. If I known before that it didn't take much of anything to break a law enforcement officer, I would have done this much earlier."

"You have proved your point," Grissom spoke coldly, "But you do not have to do anything else to him. Leave him alone. Take this out on me."

"Oh, but I know what would happen then. I can already tell you what the reactions would be to your torture. These two would yell and fight at their restrictions. They already have enough fear in this situation. I need you to experience it as well. Only then, only then, will I be able to break you all."

Another smile was flashed at Grissom before Nick's white face was covered again. Nick tossed his head much like a wild horse. Grissom could see the imprints of his mouth and nose through the cloth. This time Nick got out sounds. Each one ripped through his heart and soul.

Warrick growled as Nick's head disappeared. The ropes were ripping apart the flesh of his arms and hands, but he didn't give a shit. His chair rocked with his effort for freedom. Mike had moved to stand behind him and was holding the chair as best he could. Warrick didn't make it easy for him.

"How long should we keep it on this time?" Tenner asked as he felt Nick's struggles weaken again, "Should we wait until he stills?"

"Get it off him now!" Warrick roared.

"Leave him alone!" Grissom was pleading, "Get it off him now!"

Nick tried to cry out for help, but only managed sounds of panic. As the sounds drifted to his covered ears, he sounded like a keening dog. His head kept getting heavier and heavier. It was harder to keep it moving.

"Easy now Nick," Tenner whispered as he removed the cloth again. The blood from the cuts was now were now smears of pink across his cheeks, his lips. Every one of the bruises stood out in stark contrast with his forever whitening skin. Tenner never had seen something so interesting before.

He used the cloth to dab Nick's face as he circled around him. Nick moaned around his gasps for air as he tried to move his head away from Tenner's hand. Pure delight ran through his very bone marrow. His gods were singing their praises at this new treat. Nick was giving them everything they could ever want. And they wanted more.

The shouts from the other two men had subsided, but he could feel their hatred, "This couldn't have worked out better any other way I planned it. But now I think it is time to introduce you all to the other players in our workings. After all, they helped us in so many ways."

Grissom watched Tenner like a hawk as he patted Nick's cheek again before he walked away from his CSI. There hadn't been many times when he felt this much anger. But this time, he wasn't willing to wish it away, take a coaster ride. No, this time he wanted to act on pure instinct to get rid of it.

He watched the older man kneel by his other package he had brought into the room. Tenner used the utmost care as he removed the cloth to expose the glass frame. Grissom squinted his eyes to get a clearer look at it, but all he saw was a lot of green under those glass walls.

Tenner picked the tank up and set it on an empty chair, the entire time singing in a soft voice at whatever was inside. He carefully removed the lid and reached a wrinkled hand inside, parting some of the green leaves. He smiled as if he were looking at one of his children during a moment of their triumph.

"I am sure you were wondering greatly about that frog toxin floating in everyone's blood. It isn't something you find everyday here in Las Vegas now is it. But it isn't hard to get a hold of poisonous frogs. A friend of mine found the sight on the internet and told me about it. Cheap when you have the right connections."

In his hand sat a mint colored frog with large black eyes. The tiny body was apprehensive as if waiting to flee. Its tiny black, webbed toes stuck to the flesh of Tenner's hand as it moved slowly to look around the room. The size of the frog was no more than two inches.

"This is one of the few in my collection that I keep clean of all poisons. It is pointless to have all killers. Can't enjoy them as fully then. This is one of my oldest, my Carolina. She has always been my favorite."

Nick finally had his breathing under control and was able to lift his head to look at the frog as it was described. He had seen pictures of them and stories on the television, but this was the first one he had been in the same room with. It was a pretty creature.

Tenner stroked the tiny head. The black eyes covered as it blinked. He placed her back in the tank with care before he turned to face his captives. Movement caught Warrick's eyes and he saw Shaun reach into the bag that fucking cloth came out of. He couldn't see what was wrapped in those massive hands.

"Bring those here Shaun," Tenner beckoned with his hand.

The tall man walked with heavy thuds towards his master and placed the glass syringes into the waiting hand. Tenner placed two on top of the tank as he eyes the last one. With a sinister grin, he held it up, thumb on the stopper. Like in those corny doctor shows, he pushed and shot some of the liquid straight up and out.

"But this here, is the toxin some of my other frogs have. It takes time and patience to milk enough from them. You have to induce panic in their tiny bodies then collect the fluid they push through their skin. Must be careful not to get any of your skin though. It absorbs very quickly. What I have in here is diluted so we will have more time. Don't want you to drift off too quickly now."

"Where do you keep these frogs?"

The sudden question from Grissom caught Tenner off guard. He turned his eyes from the clear liquid to look into a hard look. Grissom was sitting calmly, watching every move he was making. It was almost unnerving. Tenner had to look away quickly.

"They stay right here. If your cop would have looked closer, he would have seen another door in my office. It leads to a very nice tropic environment. Cost a lot of money, but very much worth it."

"Why frogs?"

"So many questions Dr. Grissom."

Grissom would have shrugged his shoulders if he had the movement, "It's my job."

"Hmm…well, it was what called to me. I questioned my gods about what they wanted used in their mission. They told me a tale of the god Dionysus and his use of wine to drug women in order to have them do his bidding. Panic and Fear wanted something similar to drug their victims, but wanted something more organic. Something slower. Frog toxin was perfect."

"You said it was diluted?" Warrick threw his own voice into the mess, quiet for too long.

"Yes, of course. It will still work, just take longer. This works with your blood, dispersing through the entire body. Eventually, organs slow and fail. Hearts stop beating. Nothing to do, but wait."

Tenner took slow steps forward, pacing himself as he talked, "As I said, I don't want to end our games too early. This will just help to reach my goal. As you shut down, your mind is open to knew impulses, new sensations. You will learn Fear and Panic faster."

His feet stopped in front of Nick. The Texan was flushed, but seemed more aware of things now. The younger man looked up at him slowly, showing Tenner the flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He had always been curious to see what the wet cloth could really do to a person. Tenner never really went with when him members took care of their gods' work. It was more fun than he could have ever imagined.

"Let's see how southern blood handles it," Tenner spoke gently as he reached down with the needle towards Nick's exposed shoulder.

Nick tried to jerk away, but couldn't get much room from the movement. The needle prick was quick and only his intake of breath announced the action to his friends. He could feel the liquid move into his skin as he sought out Warrick's eyes. His partner looked ready to kill.

Tenner removed the needle and swiped a finger over the small ball of blood that beaded up. It smeared and added to the pink color already adorning the man's face. He turned away and walked back over to the frog tank. She had started to sing.

He picked up another syringe and turned towards the black man starring daggers, "I think you need some of this as well Warrick. Can't have your best friend experiencing this without you."

"Fuck you."

"Such language. Have to quiet that harsh tongue," Tenner was quicker and meaner with this injection, "Have to silence that."

Warrick grunted as the needle plunged into his neck. More blood welled up from his point of entrance. Nothing felt different. He only felt more pissed off.

"Now, that is done. We should move to the next level."

The announcement washed over Nick like water. His body felt warm, his blood thick. Everything in his entire being was screaming that something wasn't right. Bile rose into his throat and a groan escaped his lips. Everyone in the room turned to face him. It was getting hard to breath, his throat swelling. Thousands of ghosts were running rampid on his flesh. He threw his head back and screamed.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Her house was warm and welcoming. Sharon Walker sat on her couch, knitting needles in her hands. It was the best way for her to reduce her stress. Her life was nothing like she would ever dreamed. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was perfect.

There was a quiet knock on her door. A smile reached her lips. Brandon was early. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight. What she really needed was for him to fuck her into oblivion. Her steps were quick to the door.

"How ya doing tonight big boy? Hope you are in the mood to…"

Her sentence was cut off when see saw the cloaks. Fear coursed through her as she threw herself away from the door into the room. They followed quickly. There was no where to go.

"Why? What happened?"

"You are targeted," said a deep baritone.

Sharon raised a hand and shook her head, "Kyle, don't do this! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Not another word was spoken as they moved in. Her arms were grabbed and locked behind her. The needle was thrust in. Her body tensed in their hands. Breath ghosted the back of her neck as hands moved around on her clothes.

Her worst fear, rape by a group. Seems Tenner made sure to make it with as many men as possible. Hands groped her ample chest, her ass. Someone was rubbing against her left thigh, something hard. Whimpers left her lips. A gun barrel was pushed past her lips. Her screams echoed through the gun cambers, into the room.

TBC…