Disclaimer: The Author does not, nor does she claim to, own the television show CSI. All characters, affiliated symbols and recognizable content belong to the rightful creators and the television networks that they are contracted to. All "original" characters, locations, events and circumstances are, unless otherwise noted, fictional. Any resemblance to persons: living, dead or otherwise copyrighted, are unintended and by occur only by coincidence. No financial gain from the production or public distribution of this story. The content is for entertainment only and no harm or offense is intended.
Rated M for Mature: Scenes of graphic violence, language, drug and alcohol abuse, references to rape, sexual abuse, nudity and adult content pertaining to both homosexual and heterosexual scenes.
Spoiler Warning: The following story, more or less, follows the set cannon and universe of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation up to 'Dead Doll' Other episodes up to and possibly including those from the new season can and will be referenced. Also this is the second story in a series of three and it is highly recommended that 'Violated' be read first.
Author's Note: I meant to have this story finished and posted months ago, but real life has a way of interfering sometimes. Ah well, it's better late then never, right. This story actually started out as an answer to a challenge fic, only it never worked out the way I wanted it to. The story has gone through countless plot overhauls, but the basic framework has remained the same. It's going to be a great ride, hope you brought a helmet.
A CSI Tale
Business, his father had always told him, was not to be done over dinner. His time, though, was limited, and his business was vital. He propped his elbows on either side of his plate and steepled his forefingers, and looked at the man sitting on the other side of the table.
He only hired the best and the word was that Jorge Ruiz Trevino was the best at what he did. Trevino didn't have much to say but when he did speak, people listened. The swarthy man had a voice that didn't quite fit with his heavily muscled body and diamond hard black eyes.
"Do you have a picture, Boss?"
He did have a picture, and considering the circumstances, he was lucky to have found them. Both had been clipped out of The Sun. He slid the crisp and carefully kept photos across the table face down. Trevino looked at the photos quickly and discreetly slipped them into his pocket and his face remained unchanged, and completely blank.
"I assume you'll destroy those after the fact, Jorge."
"Of course." The Latino's face had remained like granite, unchanged and unreadable. "Some men of my profession would not do this, sir. Women and children are generally considered espectadores, bystanders. It is not honorable."
He leaned back and looked Trevino over. He didn't personally believe in honor amongst thieves, but he had apparently found the one assassin that did.
"With the money I am offering, there's nothing you can't replace." He smiled, "Even your honor."
It only took a moment, but Trevino nodded, "And the details?"
They were surrounded by people, but were in no danger of being overheard, and anyone foolish enough to ease drop would never repeat what they heard. Being the Boss came with a certain set of privileges and obedience was one of them.
"There will be an unlocked blue sedan with a full tank of gas, the keys in the ignition and twenty-thousand dollars in the trunk."
Trevino didn't even blink at the number.
"Think of it as a down payment."
Their food was forgotten and their appointment was almost at it's end.
"I need two more things, Boss. I will need how-do-you-say-it? I will need a patsy in case things become complicated." The assassin pushed his plate out of the way, "I will also need a distraction."
The man that called himself the boss grinned. It might have been, at one time, a mischievous smile. He had just ordered a hit on two women, it was not a mischievous grin. It, instead, bordered on malevolent.
"As for a patsy, take your pick. I own half the men in this place." He looked around, completely at ease, "And don't worry about the distraction, I've got that covered. All you need to worry about is killing one civil servant bitch and a teenager. It'll be a walk in the park, Jorge. A walk in the park.
Author's Note II: Reviews are greatly appreciated!