We'll discuss this story at the end of it. Caphice? CHARACTER DEATH. -faints-

No, I don't own CSI: New York. I'd really like to, though.

Meeting Death Face-to-Face

The killer grinned in the dim light of the room, his gun in his hand and staring at him in the eyes. "You're not afraid to die?"

"I never was," the CSI told him quietly, a calm aura surrounding him. "I never will be."

John Mason barked a quick laugh, cocking his weapon and aiming it right between those sky blue eyes, wildly smiling and feeling a sense of excitement rushing through his blood. "You're braver than I thought, Taylor. I never would have believed you would have actually done this! Or was that stupider than I thought- stupid enough for you to come and do this alone with a bunch of cops outside the warehouse?!"

Mac Taylor never wavered his stance and he straightened up ever so slightly. This man had killed seven people over the last three years, dogged avoiding authorities and creating new massacres of a crime scene. He felt a wave of anger threaten to overcome him at this monster, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had come on his own free will into the warehouse- no guns, no bulletproof vests to keep him safe. Mac was accepting this job and taking it as a leap of faith.

He couldn't live forever.

It seemed to everyone that he was literally making a deal with the devil.

But not to him.

Mason's finger was shaking on the trigger, the look in his eyes becoming more wild. "You're both stupid and smart! I cannot believe you'd actually do this!"

"I can't live forever," Mac told him steadily. "We all have to die some time. Today might be my day, it might not be my day. I'll never know unless you pull the trigger to that gun. And even if you do..."

The killer growled softly. "Put a sock in it, detective. We all know I'm perfectly capable of killing you!"

"Are you?"

Mason blinked. This was crazy. This was insane!

Mac took a step back, his eyes unblinking. "Are you capable of killing me and possibly getting sixty-four bullets in your body, John? Is that what you really want out of this?"

"Sh-shut up!" he yelled.

He wanted to kill him! He was in his way for destroying more of those who didn't follow him! He needed more followers, more believers! He was the only path to God!

Who gave a damn about him getting sixty four bullets to the body?!


"You take one step, Taylor, I will not hesitate to blow your head off!" he suddenly shrieked madly, his hand now shaking.

Mac hesitated. He was close- he was so close, he could feel Death's hand stroking his cheek. Unconsciously, he brushed his hand on his own face, closing his eyes and taking a breath. A cold feeling suddenly washed over his body, one of not only dread, but content. If he was going to die today, then it would be someone else's choice to take it away. He opened his eyes and nodded to Mason. "I'm not going to move."

The killer slowly lowered his gun, giving him a confused and triumphant look. "Did I win?"

The CSI didn't nod or shake his head. He merely watched from two feet away the torrent of feelings in Mason's eyes. He felt no pity, no remorse- only a duty-bound content gnawing at his insides. The light in the room was almost gone as he took a step to him. "Mason. Mason, it's over," he finally told him. "Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees now."

He shook his head. "No. No..."

"Mason, do as you're told right now, or I won't hesitate to use force on you."

The killer's mouth morphed into a lopsided grin. "Problem with that."

Mac gave him a mildly amused look.

"You moved."


It didn't even seem painful to Mac. Just an impact to the stomach and nothing more. He saw the smoking barrel in Mason's hand and merely nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, it looks as if I did move."

He didn't even comprehend his own words. It seemed like a blur- one wild and crazy blur. Time seemed to stand still as Mac fell towards the ground, his arms seeming to reach towards the skies above. He could feel his wet shirt against his body, drenched in his own blood and mixed with the sweat he had been gathering during the confrontation. It didn't seem to be disgusting in the slightest... but he wasn't sure why. Were people delusional when they were dying?

Or was this feeling normal when they had been shot with a bullet?

Either way, he was dying.

It wasn't until now that the pain finally caught up with him. There was no warning- it hit him with the force of a flying mallet. His stomach began to contract and inflate, his heart beating faster and faster, his muscles beginning to have a seeming spasm. He convulsed on the floor ever-so-slightly, feeling Death watch him again- its piercing eyes watched his pain, nodding and waiting for the correct moment to strike.

'I'm seeing things,' he thought. 'I'm seeing phantoms...'

Mason's voice laughed dimly in his ears. "Feeling high and mighty now, Taylor? HUH?!"

Death gave a sad smile to Mac.

He could feel the blood pooling on the floor under his body and wished his team didn't have to process his crime scene.

His crime scene.

Death gave one final nod to Mac and raised his scythe into the air.

Darkness was the last thing Mac saw before his heart beat one final time...

Okay, I'm morbid right now. Yeesh, Mac's death scene. I never would have thought it to be possible. I've killed Danny Fenton in the cartoon of Danny Phantom, Marisol and Ray Jr. in CSI: Miami, and now Mac in CSI: New York. I'm going to just walk away now... but not before you guys review. Thanks for reading!