I had been driving for around twelve hours. Driving from San Francisco to Vegas had taken me around three days, one without breaks and I was now almost there. The bright lights of the casino signs were now gone and I was facing the darkness of the real side of Vegas. The dark streets, the silence, the real people. This way why I was here, well and the fact that my six months rotation was almost over, and therefore, it was sayonara Cisco, aloha Vegas.

My third, or fourth visit to the city was so far uneventful and I felt empty as I pulled up to the same gas station I had been at around five years ago. I felt so disappointed to see that the same acne-ridden was sat behind the cashier in the early hours of the morning as he had been half a decade ago. Half a decade. I was a lot younger then, a lot younger. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out as I slide the cash across the bench.

"Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Jamey/Laura/Naomi Grissom, leave a message after the tone."

"Very funny Grissom. Where the fuck are you? Johnson's got me on at least five cases because you've pissed off." Ollie does not sound happy.

"Sorry, you know how it is." I said as I picked up my luke-warm coffee and change. I smiled at the youth. There was a sense that this wouldn't be our last meeting.

"Oh shit! Grissom, how could you fucking do that to me?" Ollie screeched down the phone, I pulled it quickly away from my ear and tried to simultaneously not spill my coffee. "You skipped town again, you bitch!" He yelled.

"Sorry honey, but, six months was up." I smiled. "Ollie, gotta go. Call you back. Bye."

"No don't fucking dar-

As much as I loved Ollie, he was a potty mouth.

I started driving again, there was a hotel on the other side of town, that took a short cut through some pretty dodgy alleys. I faced towards them unsure.

"Grow up Grissom." I hissed, but still child locked all of the windows. I drove down cautiously, not too slow, not too fast. Just as I was ready to calm down and put the pepper spray back into the glove box, a red truck pulled out from an alley. I braked hard, coffee going everywhere, all over my jeans. I hit my head, and looked up just in time to see the red truck careering haphazardly down the alley. I checked all the vitals, all limbs functioning, but head bleeding. I pulled down the mirror and sighed in disgust, I was going to need stitches. I hated having stitches. I looked out of the window into the street where the truck had come from. There was another car down there, Hummer, and next to it, three bodies.

And that was the beginning of the nightmare.