A/N: All right, for the readers out there that are reading my other WIP, A Fight Worth Fighting, I must first apologize until you are deaf. Some... unexpected events have taken place, but I'm working to fix it up. I can't give you a definite time when I'll update that one, so in the meantime, here's something else that'll hopefully satisfy you. Trust me, it's been driving me insane not being able to work on AFWF properly. Second, I realize that this is another story for me to work on. And even when I get AFWF back on the road, if people want me to, I'll continue with this as well. Third, well... Here you go. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own them... I own nothing. I don't even own me.
Haunted On Lake Mead
By: MC New York
A messy quadruple murder in the middle of the woods near Lake Mead at the beginning of the night. That spelled out "all hands on deck" in my mind.
It was a rather large area. I couldn't even see all of the cadets that were called out for this case. Despite there only being four deceased corpses, anyone with half a working brain and any amount of common sense could tell that the crime scene contained over forty-eight pints of blood. There definitely had to be more people involved for the scene to become this blood sodden.
Another all-nighter... I thought to myself as I continued to inspect the third body I'd self assigned myself to.
After several minutes of picking through the Joe Doe #3's personal property, including an extremely bare wallet and miniature backpack that only contained a wrinkled picture of a young girl about fifteen-years-old in the wallet and a half-empty Poland Springs water bottle in the backpack. No ID, no money, and nothing of expensive value was to be found.
It could've been a robbery. But why way out in the woods and when there were three other people accompanying him? I said to myself, knowing it didn't sound right even in my mind. And what could be of value to take from a pack of hikers? I said, dissatisfied with what I thought was a probable theory, noting quickly the man's attire.
"I got an ID." I heard Sara call a few yards away at Joe Doe #1. "But that's about it."
Staring up, I saw as she advanced toward Joe Doe #3 and myself, concentrating mainly on the brown leather wallet she held in her gloved hands. Just like we all did at crime scenes, she made a straight walk with one foot directly in front of the other so she didn't compromise the scene with unnecessary footprints. My undivided attention promptly altered to the tall brunette as I shifted into a much more comfortable position from my squatted stance on the right side of the body. I watched her robotic movements for some time before I spoke up to respond to her previous statement.
"I don't even have an ID on this vic. What have you got?" I asked with exasperation at the fact that I'd been searching the body for over twenty minutes, only to know my efforts were fruitless.
"A twenty-four year old Daniel Kelly, Las Vegas resident. Henderson." Sara discontinued her stroll when she was within arm's reach of me, finally looking up. She took a second to herself to breath before she continued on. "But I've got no money or anything worth any amount of money on him. Just his wallet, a completely blank backpack, and Dodger's hat still on his head. And of course, hiking clothes and boots." Yet another pause came about. "I would clock it as a robbery gone wrong, but who lays in wait in the middle of the woods just to rob a bunch of hikers? Normally, hikers don't have too much on them that'd be worthwhile. Maybe at the most... I dunno... A GPS unit and some cash? Hardly seems worth it."
Looking back down at my nameless victim, I took heed to the fatal cut across his throat. A crime of passion.
"I think robbery might've been an added bonus." I lifted my flashlight from the victim's neck to Sara's face. "Crime of passion."
Appearing to be taken aback, she took a glance back at her own corpse with recognition. "Same with my vic. Clean cut across."
"I wonder how the other two came up?" I asked to the atmosphere as I looked deeper into the woods, knowing Catherine and Nick were handling the two other Joe Does.
It seemed as if I couldn't do so much as rotate in place without coming in contact with my victim's blood. A twenty-nine year old Corey Olivia from out of state. Way out of state. Way out of country, to be exact. England native.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a very discontented Nick Stokes hang his head low as he removed his ball cap and rest his head against the palm of his hand as he heaved out a sigh.
"How's it going over there, Nicky?" I asked, a small hint of sympathy present in my words.
"To Hell... I've got absolutely nothing. Not even a wallet. Not even a backpack." Nick declared as he stood up, putting his hat back on. "He's got nothing but the clothes on his back and legs. He doesn't even have shoes anymore." Nicky took a much needed break for a breath. "And a nice clean slice across the throat to kill him. But that's all I'm getting off this Jane Doe."
"Jane?" I said, looking down at my male vic once more.
"Yeah, she's a woman. If I had to guess, I'd say she's barely out of her teenage years. Maybe twenty? Twenty-one?" Nicky said as he carefully made his way over to me, his footsteps planned out with intense care. "What have you got?"
"Well, I've got an Englander, twenty-nine. Corey Olivia." Remembering Nick's mention of a clean cut across his victim's throat, I took notice of my own victim's wounds. Quite the opposite. "Jagged and ripped wounds around the neck. Almost animal-like." I reached out to stretch out the skin around the neck to inspect it further.
"Well, the coyotes do get pretty hungry and desperate. They could've banned together and took him down." Nicky found a place to crouch down on the opposite side of the body.
"If it was a pack, he would've had more wounds on him. Everything else is intact. His clothes are shredded and he has no defensive wounds. No one in their right mind would simply lay down and allow a coyote to tear at their throats willingly." I commented as I began to check for any plausible reason the vic would be rendered immobile. Finding no sprained or broken ankles or legs, I couldn't think of any reason why the man couldn't out run his attackers. "And besides, a pack wouldn't go through all of that trouble to kill him and then leave him untouched."
"Huh..." Nicky took an overall glance at the area twice before looking back at me. "You know this scene isn't only for four people. There's too much blood to be from only four bodies."
"That's what I was thinking too." I agreed with a nod, propping on arm on my left knee. "All right, so some guys escaped alive. Maybe these four fought back for some time."
"Yeah, but how many attackers can there be for a group of four?" Nicky scrunched up the corner of his mouth as he shook his head in disagreement.
"Well, you know it's like they say... 'The more the merrier'." I offered as I looked around with him now.
"Well we would've found their bodies by now if that's true. If they lost that much blood, they couldn't have gone far. And there's only so much deadweight the rest of them could've pulled with them." Said Nicky as he seemed to stare out further into the woods, in the general direction where we'd seen Warrick, Greg, and Brass walk off into.
"We are close to Lake Mead, though... It's possible that they might've dumped the bodies there. Their TOD was around noontime today and they were discovered at 8:00 p.m." I said to myself and partially Nick.
"Yeah, but then why wouldn't they bother to hide these four?" Nicky said, obviously getting frustrated with the fact that there was no straightforward answer to this case.
Letting out a sigh, I finally stood up, stretching my aching muscles for a solitary moment. "I'm gonna pull a Grissom moment and just say 'Let's not get ahead of the evidence.' We've got nothing to go off of and it's pointless trying to make theories just yet." I said, knowing our theories wouldn't be able to be backed up by the little evidence we had to work with.
This earned me a small chuckle out of Nick for how we all seemed to refer to it as a 'Grissom moment'. "Let's hope Greg and Warrick find more than we did."
All of my years that I spent going to crime scenes, I've seen and smelt some of the bloodiest and some of the most disgusting, but I couldn't remember a single scene that left that coppery smell burning in my nose as badly as this one did. As much as I tried not to inhale through my nose, I could still taste it.
Could've been worse. I told myself. It could've been a decomp.
Greggor and myself had led Brass so far into the woods, I'd been questioning myself whether Brass even knew where we were now. I was still counting on running into one of the cadets just to find my way out. But with every passing step, it became more and more unlikely that we'd run into anything but trees and blood out in these woods. Not even a dead body could be found, and yet there was so much blood. We were far from the four bodies we'd found originally, but we kept following the thick trails of blood deeper and deeper into the woods.
"Can we turn back?" Greg asked abruptly, stopping dead in his tracks.
"What? Don't tell me you're getting creeped out by these woods, Greggor!" I held a quick laugh at the younger man's fear. "Nothing out here besides trees, blood, four dead bodies that we know about, a bunch of criminalists, and the woodland animals. And a lake further back."
"Who said I was creeped out?" Greg piped up as he continued to follow me, seeing I wasn't about to stop. "I'm just saying that we've been walking for a long time. We're not even close to the scene anymore."
"Yes, but we're following the blood trail... Blood trails just don't randomly drop out of the sky, Greg." I told him as I finally stopped to look up and around.
"C'mon Warrick... You seriously don't know where we are, do you? Do you know anything about this side of Lake Mead?" Greg pressed me as all three of us came to a halt.
"Ah Sanders, don't tell me you believe in that bullcrap." Brass said with an exasperated tone in his gruff voice.
"What do you mean, bullcrap? It's true, y'know! I got friends that've come out here and seen the mansion." Greg took a defensive tone now. "Right on that island out there on the lake!"
Scrunching my face up in confusion, I turned back to the bickering men, not having the slightest clue as to what they were talking about. "What are you guys talking about? What's out on the island?"
"You've never heard it, 'Rick?" Greg asked in amazement. "Being from Vegas, how the Hell do you not here of the 'Killjoy Mansion'?"
"Because he probably doesn't listen to phony ghost stories, Sanders." Brass commented briefly.
"'Killjoy Mansion'? Now I'm completely lost." I said as I leaned against a tree behind me, checking to make sure nothing important was on it, like evidence.
"They say that out in the middle of that forested island in the middle of the lake, there's a haunted mansion that used to be inhabited by a psychiatrist by the name of Robert Killjoy and his patients. It was an insane asylum, but Killjoy used it for much more. He used it for experimenting." Greg tried to instill fear within me with his voice.
"Yeah, real Frankenstein experimenting." Brass said with a roll of his eyes.
"But his experiments didn't stop there. He did it to animals, too... He combined the animals with humans and vice versa. Killjoy was one messed up man. He tortured his patients and put them through tests to see how much pain they could take. Physical or mental." Greg switched from staring at me to glaring at Brass when he wasn't looking. "His favorite form of killing his patients was beheading, and afterwards, he'd dissect the bodies and hang them in one part of the basement, while he preserved the heads in the refrigerators for whatever uses later."
"Greg..." I took a second after absorbing all of the information Greg just passed onto me. "Greg, you don't seriously believe that? It's an urban legend. A ghost story. It's not real."
"Oh yeah? How do you know? You've never been out there to say so!" Greg said defiantly.
"And you've never been out there either, to verify the story I bet." Brass said as he turned to walk back in the general direction we came from. "Now we need to find a way out of here and back to the original scene. We can try chasing this trail when there's daylight."
"Ah hah! The stories are creeping you out now, huh! 'Cause you know they're true!" Greg said triumphantly.
"No Greg, it's because I don't want to be the idiot that runs around in the dark, getting lost where people can't find us. I would like to return to my house at one point instead of these woods." Brass said nonchalantly. "Is that okay with you?"
"Admit it! You're getting creeped out by the thought too, aren't you?" Greg persisted.
"No, I'm not." Brass said calmly.
"Stop denying it." Greg rushed up to his side, not dropping it.
Brass yielded immediately and faced Greg. "I'm not afraid of some bogus ghost story."
Just as Greg was about to continue on with his insistence that Brass was getting the willy-nillies over a ghost story, we began to hear the call of one of the cadets from further up ahead.
"Captain Bra--" The cadet's words were cut short with a guttural and watery sound took over it, followed by the thump of something solid hitting the ground.
Instantly removing myself from the tree I had occupied until then, I moved toward Brass and Greg, who seemed to as horrified as I was. And it was as clear as day when we heard a low pitched growl emanating from the direction the cadet had been in, followed by the sound of devouring of flesh. The growl didn't seem to be anything I could associate with any type of animal in these woods. It sounded as if it would be a coyote, but there was something distinct about it that told me whatever it was, wasn't a coyote.
"That's not a coyote, is it?" Greg's small voice squeaked out as we moved backwards, away from the noises, in unison and at a snail's pace.
"Shh!" Brass instructed harshly as he unholstered his issued gun.
But as soon as Brass had the barrel of the gun pointed upwards, through the dense woods were multiple glowering red and yellow eyes glaring at us intensely. They were set far too low to belong to humans, yet where positioned too high to be owned by any four-legged creature.
"Run." Came Brass's next simple command. "Run, and get out your guns."
Letting my hand fall toward my holster, I'd barely been an inch away before it was mysteriously taken away from it. Gone. Vanished, and I was positive that it'd been there before. And it seemed that Greg's gun had seemingly disappeared as well.
"Shit!" Brass cursed, no longer possessing his gun.
Wasting no more time, the three of us turned and ran from whatever was now chasing after us. I was surprised when Brass was able to keep up with my hastened pace, but was mortally horrified when I saw Greg falling behind, out of breath and out of luck.
"Greg!" I stopped myself to turn back.
Still concealed in darkness, the glowing eyes drew closer and closer to the still running Greg Sanders. I had begun to run back until Greg tripped and crash landed onto the ground that I stopped in terror, getting my first glimpse of the creatures that were pursuing us. That couldn't be real...
Jumping with a start, I calmed my wild pulse down within a matter of minutes. Looking over at Grissom confirmed that I wasn't the only one that'd heard the scream.
"That sounded like Warrick." Grissom said when silence ensued.
"Maybe we should go look for them. That didn't sound like an angry yell... Sounded like..." Before I could even get my sentence completed, several boisterous sounds resonated from far in the woods.
"Dammit!" That couldn't have been mistakened for anyone else besides Nick.
"What the Hell?" Catherine's unpleasant confused voice followed straight after. "Jim!"
"Warrick! Where's Greg!" Nick's concern was heavy in his Texan voice.
"Keep running!" Brass's rough voice commanded, cutting off any further conversation between the three.
Heavy footfalls, panting - and now – a vicious and threatening snarls followed. At first, I could've sworn it was a coyote or some type of canine, but when it appeared again, I knew something wasn't right with the sound. It seemed to be a combination of a hiss and a rattle of a snake. What kind of animal gave off a sound like that?
"Brass!" Grissom called out, standing up and moving backwards in my direction now.
Searching for the officers that were to secure the scene, I could only lay my eyes on one, and as soon as I did, he'd dropped dead – literally. Arterial spray from his throat colored the nearby trees as his body feel to the ground, landing in a puddle of my victim's blood. The worse part was, I couldn't see the attacker and nothing could be so quick as to slit his throat and disappear in a blink of an eye. At least, nothing that I'd encountered in my life.
Without a second thought, I reached down for my trusty gun, but I quickly withdrew my hand with a sharp intake of breath. Not only was my gun now gone, but I had an open gash right across the palm of the hand that'd tried to retrieve my gun as well. Clean cut and it hurt like Hell.
"Grissom, I think we have a problem." I said as I removed my blood-covered and filled glove, applying pressure to the open wound to stop the bleeding.
Before his reply was voiced, however, we were soon enveloped by multiple glowing cat-eyes, glaring at us with a burning hatred and deadly intent. Instinctively, I backed up until my back came into contact with another solid item – Grissom's back. I tried my hardest not to cringe as the lights that were placed around the scene for us to work in the light broke or sizzled dead, submerging us in a total darkness.
"Don't go for you gun..." I whispered back to Grissom.
"Are you insane? It'll be the only that protects us at this point." He whispered back harshly, and before he could comment anymore, I felt his arm reaching down for his gun.
Springing away from whatever had just brushed past my arm, I struggled to see through the darkness to catch a glimpse at what was attacking us. A fruitless endeavor.
"What the Hell?"Grissom said quietly to himself, clearly in confusion.
Just then, Brass and the rest of our colleagues came sprinting into view, Brass leading the pack to my surprise. I never knew the man to run that fast in the entire time I'd known him. Catherine came in, nearly tripping over herself, and Nicky seemed to be helping Warrick along at the end. Warrick limped at a hasty pace with a gash tearing across his right leg, but all the rest were virtually unharmed... Simply shook up.
Where's Greg? My mind asked itself, when I realized he was the only one missing.
"Shit!" Brass said as he came to a stop near us, staring around in a horror I'd never seen instill in his eyes before.
He didn't need to say anymore for us to know what he was thinking. We were trapped with no way out. And it was only until the unidentified creatures slinked out of the veil of darkness that the realization set in. Not only the trapped feeling, but the feeling of utter puzzlement as well. Our attackers indeed were coyote, but it was far from the average type.
That when our normally organized team went into a total state of disarray. Catherine stuck close by anything and everything that could protect her, while Nicky and Warrick picked up nearby branches and used them as makeshift baseball bats to lead their assault on several of the creatures. Brass fought on his own, staying within a close proximity of Catherine, acting as a bodyguard of sorts. And at this point in time, weaponless defense was paying off for me – to an extent. But the more I used my hands for weapons, the more I became wounded. Eventually, the beasts had pushed me so far back that I tripped over the deceased officer that laid dead on the ground. The CSI part of me scolded me for contaminating the evidence, but this was about my life now. I'm sure it'd be understandable and within reason in the courts, but then again, you can never tell.
With the sight of the officer's corpse distracting me slightly, I didn't notice when one of those monstrosities leapt for me, landing on my chest and attacking my face in an instant.
Protect the face and throat. Protect the face and throat. The mantra repeated over and over in my mind as I shoved my left forearm into its powerful jaws.
I couldn't help but shake with a fear as I was forced to encounter the animal this close up. Out of all of the Sci-fi movies I'd watched with Nick and Greg, it didn't seem to take the shock away from the beastly sight in front of me. Not even the Resident Evil movies. The animal attacking me surely was a coyote, but was hairless – along with skinless – with tears in its exposed flesh so you could see straight down to its bones. The blood dripped down from the deformed animal onto my face and body as it tore at my arm, ripping the skin open. I held in my cries as I tried to kick the animal, feeling the canine teeth sink further and further into my arm.
Between the intense adrenaline rush and the shots of searing hot pain, it felt like I could pass out at any moment from the pain. Out of nowhere – just at the last minute – a swinging leg bunted the animal off of me, sending it crashing into the tree with a pained howl. Staring upwards at my savior, I saw no other face besides that of Grissom's, out of breath but still alive. Helping me to my feet, I stumbled from the pain that shot through my body and now left me with questionable vision.
"Are you all right?" He questioned, clasping his hand around the back of my neck, looking into my eyes as I caught my breath, flinching in pain as repeated waves of pain ran through my arm.
"Fine." I said through gritted teeth.
"Take this." Said Grissom as he passed a metal rod, apparently from one of the light stands, just as one of those animals launched from behind him and attached to his back, digging his teeth into his shoulder.
Gripping the rod tightly, I slammed it down on top of the creature that clung to Grissom's back down, splitting his skull wide open to expose its liquid contents – as well as its brain.
So much for not being able to kill. My conscience said as I backed away from the creature that – despite his already impossible position – still squirmed alive on the ground.
"Let's get everyone together. We can't hold out much longer." Grissom advised, still taken aback by the creatures in front of us.
Nodding in agreement, we split up to aid the rest of our colleagues. By the time we'd formed into a large group, we were being pushed back into the wall of trees behind us by the growing pack of animals in front of us. Snapping their jaws and snarling their unique snarl intimidatingly at us, all of us suddenly lost all thought of what to do next. But once again, as luck would have it, another unexpected character opened a pathway for survival.
"HEY! OVER HERE!" Greg's yell came from behind the pack, though he was no where to be found.
Our heads, along with every member of the four-legged pack, turned to stare off into the general direction the voice had come from. Turning tail, the whole pack took off to pursue Greg through the woods. Looking around now, I tried to listen or see Greg as the pack slowly disappeared into the dense and dark woods.
"C'mon you guys... I know how to get away from here." Greg's voice whispered – barely audible – from behind us.
Not one of us didn't jump as Greg appeared behind us, coming out from behind the thick trees. Never once in my life had I been so happy then I was now to see the squirrelly CSI. Seeing no other option, the six of us let Greg – for the first time ever – lead us to someplace. Racing and weaving between the trees, Greg eventually brought us out to the shoreline of Lake Mead. Our cars were too far away to have been able to make it, and in our state of panic and confusion, it was highly doubtful that we'd be able to find them.
"Greg, if you even speak one word about going out to that island..." Brass prompted the statement as we slowed down to a halt.
"Fine then, I won't say anything." Greg said as he continued to limp. "I hope you guys can all swim."
"There's has to be a boat around here somewhere. Look for one." Grissom instructed, already busying himself with the task.
Hurried and frantic searching brought us to a less than trustworthy boat, but it was still a boat at any rate. It was far from up-to-date, two ores found inside of it, but it was better than nothing. "You guys! I found something." I called out, yelling in a whisper.
With Grissom and Warrick coming into view, I began to tug at the boat that was stuck inside a viscous puddle of mud. Grissom and Warrick soon grabbed either side of the boat and heaved it up and out of the mud trap, aiding me in bringing it down to the water that lapped up against the shore. Everyone now seemed to huddle around it, glancing behind their backs with a sense of paranoia instilled in their bones.
"All right. This is how it's gonna work. All of the injured people get inside." Warrick said as he steadily climbed into the boat, one foot in and one foot out on the sand. It only took a short amount of time for all of us to realize that everyone was injured.
"I'll swim." I volunteered, knowing that a couple of puncture wounds to my forearm wouldn't affect my swimming ability.
"Me too. It's only a couple scratches." Nick piped up, moving to stand beside me.
"I'll swim too." Greg grunted as he attempted to join, but was quickly stopped by Catherine.
"There's no way that you'd be able to make it, Greg. You look like you should be dead." Catherine said, gently guiding him toward Warrick who helped him into the boat.
"I'm injured, but I'm not dead!" Greg claimed, but made no effort to remove himself from the boat.
"I can make it." Grissom – to everyone's surprise – stepped forward. "Everyone else, get in the boat."
"You can make that entire stretch? C'mon Gil, stop kidding." Brass said with doubt in his voice, while Catherine got into the boat.
"Yeah, I agree with Jim, Griss... I'll take your place. My other leg still works fine." Warrick said as he began to remove himself from the boat.
"Stop judging my abilities according to my age, if that's what you're thinking." Grissom ordered, already relieving himself of his shoes and jacket, items which would only weigh him down in the water.
Whether they were going to admit it or not, everyone was doubting Grissom's endurance due to his age to some length. With the exception of myself, that was. Though I didn't know from experience, I could tell that he had a well-built body physique.
"All right, but if you get too tired, I'll switch." Warrick threw the offer up in the air as Nick and myself began to relieve ourselves of our jackets and shoes, tossing them inside the boat with Grissom's belongings.
The swim there – to say the least – was freezing cold. It was longer than I had anticipated, and regardless of my being in shape, I found it to be a struggle to keep up the pace with the rowing boat. It was the same case with Nick and Grissom, the both of them having to grab onto the side of the boat several times just to not fall behind. But even though Grissom had visibly become tired and strained with the continual swimming, he refused vigorously to switch places with Warrick out of the multiple times he offered.
That why it was to no one's surprise when the three of us collapsed in a heaving mass when we washed ashore of the island out in the middle of the lake. Dragging myself further on my stomach, I made it as far as Grissom's collapsing body as he rolled onto his back. When I gathered my energy, I lifted my head and stared across at him.
"Boss? You all right?" Nicky's Texan drawl resonated from the other side of Grissom's body.
"I'm all right, Nick." Grissom managed to get out. "Sara?"
"Hmm?" I questioned, letting my head drop to the ground once more. "I'm fine."
"Gil!" Brass's bellow sounded from the boat as it finally came ashore. "You are one of the most stubborn men I've ever met. Are you guys all right over there?"
"Yeah." The three of us yelled in unison.
"At least we're away from those things." I said, more to myself than anyone else.
"You can say that again." Nicky chimed in as he sat up now. "But now, how do we get off here?"
"We wait until daylight. From there, we'll row back toward the side of the lake closest to the highway. It's a straight shot from the other side of the island." Grissom said as he now sat up from his laying position. "We'll get back to town from there."
"Near the highway? We'd have to climb the rock wall just to get up there." Greg chimed as he approached us, along with everyone else.
"Well, it's that or we struggle finding our way out of the woods anywhere else. I'd prefer climbing that wall than getting lost in the woods." Grissom said as he now got to his feet, offering his hand down to Nick to help him up. "For now, we need to find someplace to build a shelter for the night."
"I know a place." Greg spoke up, reaching down to help me up to my feet. "Killjoy Mansion."
"Greg..." Brass said in a warning tone.
"What have we got to lose?" Greg cut him off, stepping closer to the woods that inhabited this island. "There's the path." He pointed to a very narrow dirt path straight ahead. "If we follow it all the way down, it'll take us to the stone wall that surrounds the mansion. If we hop the gate, we can make it into the mansion. It's our only chance."
"I know you're not talking about that crazy doctor's house, Greg." Nick said with a slightly worried tone.
"Would you rather stay outside all night?" Greg questioned rhetorically as he began the walk toward the path.
"I'm going with him." Catherine spoke up immediately after the silence that encased us.
"Me too." Warrick chimed in, following Catherine and Greg.
"Might as well." Grissom said, pursuing the growing group.
"We've got nothing to lose." I finally decided and took off after them.
Hearing a sigh come out of Brass, I heard his reluctant footsteps begin as well. "C'mon Nick. It's better than nothing at all."
"Heh, somehow I doubt that." Nick said with doubt as the two caught up with the rest of the group.
A/N2: Whatcha think? Review, please people. Even if you think it sucks. I realize I'm going Sci-fi on a CSI fic, and thatthe charactersmight seem slightly OOCbut it's a thought I had. Why be ordinary or cliché? Let's go unconventional for once! Dare to be different! R&R Because you know that gives me a lil' TLC.
Peace out, one love,
MC New York