Playing with the Devil
Authors' Note: Title is in the works lol. Warning for all the usual stuff (Violence, griss angst, sara angst, greg angst, brass angst, dunno if warrick or nick or catherine will rear their heads into the story but haven't just yet...well sara hasn't either but i know she will be in here sooner or later) anywho this is my class assignment actually. Well not technically but I am getting points for it (they are called daily pages and Im just working on the story day in and day out for my creative writing class) so yea...Muehehehe Enjoy, Review please and yea.
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A crime scene is operationally defined as a location where a crime has been comitted. It is not often when a crime scene becomes a crime scene for another crime. In fact there is a one and a million chance that it would happen.
This particular crime scene was located just outside the Vegas strip, at a small secluded park. The 419 was called in. Meaning this unfortunate soul stumbled apon a dead body. The victime was found half covered in some bushes.
Gil Grissom was the first of the CSIs to report to the scene. He was accompanied by his good friend, and former CSI supervisor, Jim Brass. The night supervisors' back up for this particular scene was, Greg Sanders; A former DNA analyst turned crime scene investigator. He was the youngest of the vegas night team.
The scene had a disolate feel to it. There was a dryness in the air that could easily cause a nose bleed.
Grissom hovered over the victim and took in the sights and smells of the general area of the body. As Greg sauntered over, Grissom bent down as the coroners' assistant, David, greeted them.
"What do you have?" Grissom asked, glancing over to Greg for a second, as the young CSI knelt down to join him.
"Two gunshout wounds. One in the neck, just a graze, the second, here, entry through the left eye. I suspect that was the fatal blow." David explained pointing to the wounds as he spoke of them. Grissom pulled his gloves on over his hands as he leaned in to get a closer look.
"Anything else?" Greg asked then.
"Ah Yes, some ligature marks here on the wrists." David handled the victims' wrists with his own gloved hands. Grissom took the wrists and glanced at them closer. He had a quiet way about him this particular night. Greg noted.
"It looks like he was tied up with a rope of some kind." Greg pointed out, hovering over his supervisors' shoulders to look at the wrists. Gil glanced to him with a 'no duh' silent look then went back to hunting for evidence by visuals. Grissom then looked up glancing around, spotting what he needed. He stood up and noticed the blood trail that lead from the body to a power line pole.
"He was tied to the pole, then moved here" Grissom spoke aloud for the first time since he asked David about the victim. Gil was moving slowly as he spoke, along the blood smears that was consistent with dragging the victim. The trail of blood screamed out that the victim was dragged in a stop-start fashion. Meaning the suspect had to be at least lighter, and most likely smaller then the body. He apporached the pole and saw the splatter marks from the shot entering the body about five feet up on the pole.
Suddenly a gun shot rang out then, cutting through the silence like a knife through warm butter. It was followed by another and another. Greg shrieked in a high pitch tone and dove into a bush for cover. He was ambushed then by the coroners' assistant who joined him for protection. Brass immediatly pulled his gun from his holster and fired at the suspect running away. Within two shots from Brass, the victim was down. What started out as a simple homicide victim, now was two. A double homicide. What they hadn't realized yet that it could easily turn into a triple without immediat attention.
Once there was silence, Greg poked his head up from the bush, glancing at Brass in shock, and shoving David off himself slightly.
"Who was firing at us!" Greg asked in an uneasy tone, glancing at Grissoms' original spot. The young CSIs' jaw dropped slightly; seeing a fallen boss wasn't easy. Griss was hit and was now on the ground; back to the ground.
"Grissom" he shouted then, going on his first instinct. Greg sprung to his feet and launched himself towards the fallen CSI.
The night supervisors' arms were flailing slowly towards his torso. He seemed to be in shock. Greg leaned over him to take in the full account of his injuries. A darken spot was growing steadily around a small hole in Grissoms' jacket. Blood was already leaking down the sides of his lips.
Gils' eyes were moving back and forthe, like they could not decide what to focus on. Greg pulled his bosss' arms down to the ground and tried to obtain eye contact with him.
"Grissom look at me" He said loudly. The scientists' blue eyes snapped towards the younger CSI immediatly.
Grissom attempted to keep his eyes trained on Greg, but the pain was tremedous. It was so intense, that he could hardly breathe. That and the added fact that the crimson liquid was also accumulating in his lungs and slowly coarsing its' way up his throat.
"Brass! Help!" Grissom watched as the young CSI panicked and called for help from the other who was at the scene.
The older man was all ready hovering over them. He also had barked orders for the paramedics into the walkie-talkie. The captain knelt down beside the fallen CSI and began to pull off his caot.
"'m cold..." Gross stuttered quietly, Fighting to keep his eyes open and on Greg.
"Workin' on it buddy..." Brass spoke quickly. He crumpled up his jacket and placed it on the wound. Brass then pressed on it roughly, causing the scientist to hiss in agony. Grissom let his eyes close tightly, and jerked his head to the side.
"Come on griss, look at me again" Greg encouraged. Gil opened his eyes wearily, and regained focus on his employee.
"Good." Greg muttered under his breathe. Panic of the whole situation seemed to have slowed everything down. The paramedics were taking forever.
"Keep his neck straight." Brass told greg as he continued to apply pressure to the wound. The young CSI did as he was told, shakingly placing his hands on both sides' of Grissoms' neck; firmly keeping it straight.
By this time the older scientist was starting to lose it. Gil was fading into the unconcious realm, and could do nothing to fight it. He finally just closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
"No Grissom! Come on, Open your eyes." Greg pleaded with his boss, but it wasn't working this time. In the background the young CSI could hear the blaring sirens of the ambulence. The paramedics finally arrived.
Greg was washed over with a sense of horrible fear as soon as the paramedics pulled him away from Grissom. Shock from the whole event took over. He stared down at himself, Grissoms' blood coverd his hands and knees. Plastered all over his pants, coat, and shirt. He did not even notice his hands were shaking fiercely, like they had after the lab imploded with him in it. Silent tears fell slowly from his eyes. The sight of his fallen supervisor being loaded up in the back of the ambulence.
Brass walked over to him and placed a hand on his soulder.
"Lets' go follow them" Brass pated him softly on the shoulder. Greg glanced over to him, his face was a blank stare. Brass took him by the forearm and lead him gently to his cop car.
"What about Griss's Tahoe?" Greg asked, staring at the black SUV by Jims' cop car.
"Some one will get it back to the lab." Grass answered. He knew Greg was just trying to concentrate on something else.
"We should stop back at the lab" Brass stated, looking at Greg. He definitly needed a change of cloths; a hot shower would do him some good too. Well, alot of things would do the young CSI some good, but Jim doubted that he would actually do any of that.
"Yea, We need to tell everyone what happened." Greg replied quietly. Jim pulled the car door open for him, and Greg slowly got in.
The drive to the lab was ackward silence. Brass felt like he should get Greg talking, but felt wrong prying. As they reached the lab and sauntered in; Brass glanced over to him. He looked from from okay, going on worse for wear.
"You should go clean up, Greg. I'll tell everyone." Jim offered quietly. Greg nodded slightly, then somberly sauntered down the hallway towards the locker room.
Brass headed to the breakroom. This was the first time he reliazed that his hands and forearms were covered in Griss's blood, just like Gregs. He should clean up before addressing the shift, he thought. Sadly he was already there, and there was no turning back now. He would have to tell them.
TBC
