Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
by Bfcat
Beta:Zoe Porter (And thanks to all who volunteered!)
Title: Damage (Thank you Zoe for the title suggestion!)
Rating:FRT (PG-13) just to be safe
Summary: The lives of the Las Vegas crew are shattered as Man fights
for its right to live on Earth.
Warning: MAJOR character death and LOTS of spoilers, bot major and
minor, for War of the Worlds. Oh! And angst, yummy yummy angst. *grins*
Pairing: Nick/Greg (Might be more later, I dunno...)
Fandoms: War of the Worlds and CSI
A/N: Big thanks to Zoe for being my beta, she makes everything sounds
smoother! You, my dear, are my hero! And the story won't actually
contain any of the war of the world characters, either. :P I'm posting
this at every CSI slash ML I'm part of...which is a lot, so sorry if
you get this twice. That's it, hope you enjoy!
Greg stood in the ruins of the CSI lab; passively watching as
the aliens slowly succumbed to their disease. He watched as people
slowly came out of hiding, like shy mice. Watched as, one by one,
they came to the realization that everything was over and they
cheered. And he knew, he should be down there cheering with
them...but he couldn't. The blond had seen too much. He'd had too
bury too many of his friends, had to watch as the giant creatures
killed them off like a bunch of worthless ants and worst of all...no
one he knew had shown up yet. The CSI trainee turned his back on the
cheering crowd and wordlessly surveyed what was left of the lab.
Remembering...remembering what it had looked like just a few days ago
and how simple things had seemed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"You hear about Aruba?" Greg exclaimed, suddenly appearing
behind Catherine. The elder CSI jumped and then shot the younger
blond an alarmed look, before turning back to her case. She was
headed to the A/V lab.
"Freak thunderstorm, right?" she flipped up a page.
"Yeah! Everyone lost power there. Everyone!"
"...Uh huh..." Catherine didn't look up from her files.
"What do you think caused it?"
"Weather stuff...?" she stopped at the A/V lab. "Look,
Greg...don't you have a case?"
"Nope!" Greg chirped.
"Well...some of us do. Why don't you go to Grissom? I'm sure
he can find you a case to work on with him or you can talk about the
weather with him. I'm sure he'd be thrilled either way," Catherine
went into the lab and straight to Archie. Greg looked around the
hallway, before heading to Gil's office. Cheerfully knocking on
Grissom's door before entering, he plopped onto the chair in front of
the desk. Slowly, Grissom looked up from whatever report he was
writing, an eyebrow raised.
"Greg..."
"Grissom, got any cases for me? Multiple DBs? Big felony? A
misdemeanour...?" With every suggestion, Grissom's eyebrow slowly
raised higher and higher.
"Sorry Greg," he shrugged. "No one's died yet. No one's
committed a major robbery...and we don't do misdemeanours. Just work
on your paperwork, that never goes away. It'll always keep you busy.
Maybe try opening up a cold case with Warrick or someone." Grissom
went back to his report, while the trainee's shoulders sagged with
the weight of his disappointment. Then, they quickly regained their
normal composure as Greg excitedly asked, "Did you hear about Aruba?"
Slowly, Grissom faced Greg again. "Freak thunderstorm,
right?"
"Why does everyone answer like that? Do you really need add
the 'right' at the end?" Gil looked taken back, looked around the
room, then back at Greg.
"What?"
Greg quickly shook his head. "Nothing, nothing...never mind."
he paused. "But you've heard about it, yeah?" after eliciting a slow
nod from Grissom, Greg asked, "What do you think caused it?"
"Different air pressures, Greg. What else causes
thunderstorms?"
"I dunno'! It was a freak thunderstorm, right? Couldn't the
cause be something else like...?" he gestured around wildly, arms
flailing as he tried to come up with something, "Pollution?"
"...Pollution?"
"Yeah!" the older man continued to look sceptic, yet amused
in that Grissom way of his. It made Greg's confidence fizzle
out. "Well...no! But you know, maybe something different caused the
storm!"
"Like pollution..."
"It could happen! Like..." he snapped his fingers. "Global
warming! Maybe it was caused by global warming, which is caused by
pollution!" the blond smugly pointed out. The CSI supervisor let out
a small laugh.
"Greg...just go do your paperwork. I'll call you if a case
comes up." he waved Greg off with a shooing motion.
"All right...I'll go talk to Nick!" and with that, Greg was
off again. Grissom just rolled his eyes and went back to work.
~*~*~*~*~
"Nick!" Nick looked up from the computer screen, caught sight
of Greg and grinned.
"Greggo!"
"Watcha' working on?"
"Nothing much, just looking over some cold ca-Hey!" Stokes
yelped as his boyfriend dragged him across the hallway and into a
closet. And then, before Nick's brain could catch up to the present,
Greg slammed the door and latched himself to Nick's lips.
Instinctively, the CSI let out a throaty moan and threw his arms
around Greg's waist, deepening the kiss, until his brain finally
caught up. He quickly pushed the blond off of him, frantically
looking around, making sure no one saw...as if anyone would.
"Greg! What are you doing?" he hissed. The said man rolled
his eyes while calmly wiping off some dust from his shirt, already
completely used to Nick panicking over the little things.
"Well I was having a great make out session before somebody
freaked out!"
"You're damn right I freaked out! We're at work...where we
work! Stress on work, man!" Greg gave him a look that
said 'and'. "What if someone sees us, Greg? I thought we agreed not
to fool around during work hours!"
"But what about that time�"
"That's doesn't count!"
"But Nick!" the younger man whined with a pout. "No one's
doing anything..." then he remembered Catherine. "Well...mostly no
one but that's not the point! We, meaning me and you, you and I," he
rapidly pointed at both of them, "are not on a case! All we're doing
is filling in a bunch of papers that can wait...or in your case,
looking over some old case that can still wait!" Greg ran a seductive
finger down Nick's chest and then started drawing little circles over
his stomach. "C'mon...live a little." Greg growled in a husky voice.
He leaned in, his lips almost touching the brunette's, breath hot and
inviting against Nick's slightly part mouth. "Get in touch with
that�" the sound of beepers going off filled the closet and the blond
quickly pulled away from his boyfriend, grumbling to himself. He
checked his beeper and scowled. All hopes of getting himself a little
office supply closet loving were gone, disappearing in a puff of
proverbial smoke.
"Nick, babe, did Grissom beep you?"
"Yeah..."
"Which means we have a case, right?"
"Probably."
"Damn it! I was so close to getting some!" he shook his
fist. "So close!" Nick gave him a disapproving look, not the least
bit amused by Greg's antics. The trainee grinned in response. Rolling
his eyes and knowing it was useless, the Texan slowly opened the
door, cautiously looking around to make sure no one was watching,
before he dragged Greg out of the supply closet and shut the door.
"C'mon you..." Nick grumbled, "Swear to god, I can't you take
you anywhere!" And the only response he got was that loud laugh that
he couldn't live without.
~*~*~*~*~
"Not to sound like a five year old or anything...but are were
there yet? I mean, where is this crime scene? Cause like we've
already left the city!" Greg loudly whined, huffing with impatience.
"It's in some small town just outside of the city, barely in
our jurisdiction."
"Okay...so what's with all the cars?" Greg asked as Grissom
parked the van in the middle of the road, next to Brass's cop car.
About a dozen abandoned cars blocked the rest of the road. People
were cautiously moving down the street, trying to see what happened
and why the cops were there.
"According to Brass, a freak storm hit the town, which
knocked out the power and made all the cars stop working."
"Freak storm? Like the one that hit Aruba?"
"Yes Greg, like the one that hit Aruba." The three CSI's
walked past the cars and into a throng of people.
Nick looked around, surveying all the cars. "Did lightening
somehow strike all of the cars or something?"
"No they just stopped working during the storm." Grissom said.
The Texan was still confused. How does a thunderstorm affect
that many cars like that?
"Grissom!" Brass called out, waving them over.
"What have we got, Brass?" Gil asked as they caught up to him.
"Male DB, early thirties, identified as a Michael Grodin.
Witnesses say he was struck by lightning�"
"Umm...Brass, we only investigate homicides and suspicious
deaths. Getting struck by lightning is a natural cause of death."
Nick cut in. Brass gave him a sour look.
"I know. Let me finish. Witnesses say he was struck by
lightening twice, his body toppled over and the lightening kept on
coming."
"What do you mean it 'kept on coming'? The storm kept up?"
Greg peeped. They reached the body, and both Nick and Greg stopped
dead in their tracks, eyes wide and pale. Grissom grimaced but walked
over to the body.
"No. Michael Grodin was struck by lightening about twenty-
four times after the first two, by witnesses' count." There, sprawled
on the ground was the body, a gaping hole in his chest...a hole that
dug into the concrete with no end in sight. Grissom cautiously peeked
over the deceased and into the hole, careful not to disturb the body.
"How far does it go down?" Grissom asked and Brass shrugged.
"No clue." he looked over to Nick. "That suspicious enough
for you, Stokes?" A mute nod was all he got. Gil looked up at the sky
and saw what could only be described as a giant, grey whirlpool in
the clouds. That was kind of suspicious too.
"How did we not see this storm in Vegas?" the CSI asked
himself.
"Forget that! How does a guy get struck by lightening twenty-
six times?" Greg demanded eyes still glued on the body. "That's
impossible, right? Lightning only strikes a place twice in a row at
the most, right?" Stokes just shook his head.
"I dunno...Umm...Grissom, should we process the hole or wait
for the coroner?"
"Let's wait. Process the area around it. This
lightening...there's something wrong about it."
"Besides the obvious 'hitting one spot twenty six times'?"
"Yes Sanders, besides that." he paused, "Nick, check the roof
of the buildings surrounding the body. See if maybe there's something
that could've caused�" he gestured around, "all this."
"I'm on it." The Texan muttered, eager to get away from the
body. Meanwhile, Greg noticed a small group of officers peering over
the body. Scowling, he went over to shoo them off. They might
contanimate the crime scene! But as he got closer, he began to hear
something: a rumbling...like water running underground. Confused,
Greg went to the nearest bystander and asked,
"Do you guys have an underground sewage system? Lots of water
pipes, maybe?" the bystander shook their head.
"Umm...not that I know of..."
"You're sure?" The man gave a Greg a slow, yet confident nod.
"Yeah."
"Right..." the CSI trainee looked over to Grissom to see if
he heard the noise, but the elder CSI was deep in talk with Brass.
Nick was already off somewhere else, fat chance he heard it. With a
sigh, he pursed his lips...and decided to go for it. He quickly
shooed away the officers, and then slowly peered into the mysterious
opening, shining his flashlight down into the deep hole. The light
didn't reach the bottom. But it didn't matter...
...'Cause that's when the shaking started. The blond let out
a small yelp and jumped back, dropping the flashlight into the hole.
Both Grissom and Brass snapped out of their conversation, alarmed.
"Ok, everyone stay calm!" Brass shouted as the throng of
people frantically started to run away, screaming with panicked
terror.
"Nick! Get back here!" Grissom yelled, hoping his CSI could
hear him. Cursing, he yanked out his cell phone and dialed the
Texan's phone number, "C'mon Nick..." but no one answered the phone.
Greg quickly took another step back from the body, only looking away
to glance around for Gil.
"Umm...Grissom!" he called, and when Grissom didn't hear him
he called out again, much louder this time, "Grissom!!"
Gil whirled to face Greg, shoving the cell phone back into
his pocket, "What?"
"The ground! Look at the ground!" he frantically pointed
down. The bug expert's eyes slowly travelled to the ground, already
knowing he wouldn't like what he saw and widened.
"Oh shit..."
"Why are the cops here?"
"The storm wasn't natural! Am I right? There's no way it
could've been natural!"
"Sir! Officer, please! Could you please tell me what's
going on?"
"Should I evacuate my kids?"
"Officer!"
"Officer!"
"Officer!"
Nick kept his head lowered as he shoved his way through the crowd,
politely answering everyone's questions with, "I'm sorry, I'm not at
liberty to discuss the case" or, "Sorry, but I'm not a cop." Until he
was roughly grabbed and came face to face with a big burl man...a big
angry, burly man.
"Listen you cop, I have a wife and kids and I need to know
now: Do I need to evacuate my family? What the hell is going on?
Why are the cops here?" Nick calmly tugged the hands off of his shirt.
"Sir, I have a job to do. I don't know if you have to
evacuate your family and I can't discuss an ongoing case, all right?
Just let me do my-" he was interrupted as the ground beneath him
shook. Surprised, he lost his balance and stumbled to the ground.
Everyone panicked all at once and started running in various
directions, each and everyone one of them wanting to be anywhere but
there. The CSI quickly jumped to his feet, not in the mood to be
trample on and tried to calm everyone down.
Naturally, no one listened.
Nick struggled against the crowd, debating whether or not to
follow his orders from Grissom about checking the surrounding
buildings or to go back to Grissom and see if he could somehow help
to control the crowd. Then, he felt his phone vibrating against his
hip, he checked the caller ID and it looked like Gil might answer the
question for him. Unfortunately, before he could answer his cell,
another man ran into him, screaming all the way. His cell phone went
flying out of his hand...
...And was quickly trampled on by the masses of people
freaking out. Stifling a curse, he kept struggling against the
crowd, trying to get back to his boss and Greg but there were just
too many people! Too many people were going this way and that, in
every possible direction except the one he was trying to go in!
Finally, giving up, he allowed himself to be swept up by the crowd.
He'd catch up with Greggo and Gil after the Earthquake. The panicked
screams got louder and if possible, the people became even more
motivated to get the hell out of there as a plain looking building
suddenly collapsed, and Nick had to push back the feeling of dread.
...He'd definitely meet up them after the whole natural
disaster thing. Definitely! Totally!
...Hopefully...
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Oh shit..." Grissom repeated, just for good measure. Coming
from out of the hole, like little tiny veins, were little tiny lines
that were slowly devouring the concrete. Each line was a crack in the
sidewalk, and each line traveled like a snake, slithering past people
and Gil couldn't help but gape, up the trees! What in the hell could
cause that? And the trees in question, well...they just fell apart.
No, "fell" was the wrong word. More like they tore apart.
Which, of course, caused even more mass hysteria and more people
running for their lives, and more chaos. Brass's cops made sure to
keep the mob off of the crime scene and none of the sprinting people
really minded.
No one wanted to go near the hole or the dead body.
Basically, most of the people were just trying to "evacuate"
the town as fast as possible...and then there were the people like
Gil, who were too dumbfounded to do anything but stand there and
stare at the hole, like it held the mysteries of the universe. Then
more slithering cracks climbed out of the hole and towards the gaping
cops. They quickly jumped out of the way, some opting to follow the
crowd and get out of there. Grissom still stood there. Watching with
a fascinated curiosity as a freak crack headed towards him, and then
someone grabbed his shoulders yanking him back, and out of the way.
"Jesus Gil!" Brass exclaimed. "We need to get the hell out
of here, now!" he yelled over the mass hysteria.
"No, we need to find Nick! Greg!" The trainee stopped
staring at a destroyed tree and turned to Gil, looking damn close to
freaking out. "Greg, I need you to retrieve the body. We should try
and salvage whatever evidence we can! Can you do that for me?"
Grissom asked the younger man shot a fearful look at the hole, and
then another at the body, before he turned back to his boss.
"What about Nick?" he shouted.
"I'm going to see if I can-" the rest of his words were
drowned out as the screaming got louder. Everyone was staring at
something behind the two CSIs and Brass. Slowly, all three of them
turned to see what was causing the new eruption of panic from the
gathered crowds.
One of the cracks traveled all the way to a plain looking
building, it wasn't exactly the biggest building in the world...but
it wasn't the smallest either, and the crack...didn't stop moving at
the building...
...It went up the building, just like the tree.
"You've gotta be kidding me...!" Greg whimpered as he watched
with growing horror as the fissure continued to travel up the
building, causing windows to burst apart into tiny little shards and
the door of the building to fly out. And as the crack finally
traveled over the little shop...the building split in half, one part
crumbling down onto a mob of people, only giving them time to
scream. It was the first building down but others followed it.
"Gil, we need to evacuate this place now! Forget the body!
Forget the evidence, we're getting out of here!" Brass growled,
grabbing the CSI by the arm and dragging him away from the scene.
Greg quickly scampered after them, still demanding, "What about
Nick? We need to get Nick!"
"I'm sure he's fine, Sanders but we need to get away from
that damn�" Jim heatedly gestured to the hole, "�thing!"
"But what about-"
"He's right, Greg." Grissom ignored the betrayed look on the
trainee's face. "We need to get out of here before we get buried by
debris or trampled on. I saw which direction Nick went in, so we'll
go that way and hope we find him. If not, we'll wait it out in the
car, hopefully Nick will meet us there, ok?" The blond opened his
mouth to protest, thought about it and then shut it, giving his boss
a hesitant nod.
"Fine..." The three of them stepped out of the crime scene
tape while Brass ordered some of his men to stay behind and to try
and protect the evidence as best they could. They were careful not
to get swept up by the crowd, Jim and Greg followed Gil as he led the
way, the cop just eager to get out, while the CSI trainee was just
anxious to make sure his lover was all right. They manage to put a
few yards between themselves and the crime scene, before the
earthquake just...stopped. One minute the Earth was shaking and
giving everyone hell, and in the next second Bam! It just quit. All
at once, everyone froze where they were, unsure if they should just
keep on going or if it was finally safe.
"I�is that it? We're not actually all gonna' die...?"
"Looks like it, Sanders."
"I�I still think we should find Nick." Jim shot him an odd
look.
"Why? He's a grown man, he can take care of himself."
"What if he got caught up in some debris or something? What
if he's hurt? We should go make sure he's fine and make sure he
knows that we're fine!" he stubbornly shot back, earning a glare from
the cop.
"Jim, Greg's right, we should make sure-" and once again,
Grissom was cut off, but this time it wasn't by louder screams of
terror, though those would be coming back with a vengeance, and it
wasn't another damn earthquake.
Nope.
Instead...it was a giant alien "foot" that really looked more
like a metal tentacle with an oval shoe at the bottom, but it was
foot nonetheless. And here was the best part...
...It burst out from under the hole.
Nick gaped as he stared at the...the...his face scrunched up in
confusion, what the hell was it? Some people began sprinting again,
screaming as they pushed and shoved their way through the crowd.
Others ducked into alleys and peaked their heads out, just a hair's
breath away from running. The rest, like Nick, just stood there
gaping at the monstrosity. What was it? The foot, of course, they
didn't know it was a foot, just sat there with its "leg" bending into
an arch from the ground. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Nick
quickly took advantage of the situation and pushed the through the
mob with half hearted mutters of "Excuse me", "Sorry Ma'am"
and "Pardon me..." towards the crime scene. He was hell-bent on
ignoring the giant metal thing jutting out of the ground from what he
only hoped was near and not on crime scene.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Does anyone else see the giant thing coming out of our crime
scene, or is it just me?" Greg all but screamed as the three stared
at the foot. The end with the actual "foot" planted onto the ground
wasn't really settled all that far from them. They were part of the
few people who weren't quickly backing away as fast as they could
from it.
"We don't know if it came from the scene..." Grissom narrowed
his eyes, "What is that?" he asked. Now he was the only person
actually moving towards the giant hulking machine...thing.
Hesitating, Jim followed after him, not questioning the CSI. After
all, Gil always knew what he was doing...usually...
"Gri...Grissom! What the fuck are you doing? Get back here! We
need to find Nick before everyone goes nuts again! Only a few people
are nuts right now, let's take advantage of it, okay? Let's not go
near the weird ass thing sticking of the ground that could quite
possible crush us like itty bitty ants!" Stomping his foot with
frustration, Greg scrambled to catch up, cursing all the way. Minutes
later, Greg found himself staring up at a giant metal dome, which was
connected to a giant metal...rod...thingy-ma-bob. Really, his brain
hadn't short fused from the pure weirdness of the situation.
Honestly. He just wasn't sure how to describe it. Couldn't begin to
put it into words. Gil slowly walked up to the giant hunk of metal,
letting his hand hover over the surface. Then, he leaned his head
forward his nose inches away from the sleek surface and gently cocked
his head to the side, a thoughtful expression on his face. Both Brass
and Greg warily watched the exchange, both unsure if they should stop
him. Finally, Grissom put his hand down on the metal...and let out a
small yelp of surprise, quickly withdrawing his hand. His two
friends' were by his side before he could blink.
"What? What is it? What's wrong? Did it brainwash you? I've seen
these things in the movies, you know. It's probably some weird
governmental secret thing! In fact, I read that..."
"Greg! Stop rambling, ok?" Grissom demanded waiting for Greg to
shut his mouth.
"Sorry...but uhh...what's wrong with it?" he curiously peered
over at his boss's hand, "Did it do something to your hand?"
"No. It's..." Gil furrowed his brows, lips pursed with
thought, "freezing!"
"It's cold? I'm no scientists but... shouldn't it be hot? I mean,
you know, it came from somewhere underground, right?" Brass asked and
Grissom shrugged, still pondering the machine.
"We should check out the crime scene, see if it was damaged in
any way, make sure those cops are okay." Grissom suggested, he turned
to Greg, who was still anxious to get as far away from the machine as
possible, "Greg, take some pictures of that thing, then meet us at
the crime scene, okay?"
The blond CSI stared at Grissom like he was nuts. "Are you
serious? I don't wanna' be alone with this thing! What if it moves
again? What do I do?"
"Run..." Brass dryly replied. Greg shot him a look that said, "no
duh", then his eyes whipped back to his boss.
"You'll be fine. You're a CSI now and this is your job. I'll have
to leave you alone in places you won't like and I'll have to do it
all the time, Greg. You have to be able to take care of yourself, to
handle things without my help."
"Oh that's real soothing. Left warm tinglies inside!" came Greg's
sarcastic reply.
"We're leaving now, Sanders. See you once you're done, all right?
You can handle it." Jim waved goodbye and the two of then left,
leaving Greg alone. He stared, surveying the crowd of frightened
people that circled around the machine and him, and sighed.
"Fuck..." he muttered and then he posed his camera.
'Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!! HOLY CRAP!' ran like a
mantra through Greg's head as he sat huddled against some empty,
basement wall. His eyes were clenched shut, teeth grit together,
hands clamped over his hears, and he was humming a high pitched,
nervous sound as he tried his damndest to tune out the screams and
the rumbling and the "bzzt!" sound coming from... actually, he'd
rather not go there. Not right now. He suppressed his own urge to
scream everytime one managed to sneak through his filters. He didn't
want to think about what was happening, about the people out there,
running for their lives, but the nagging thought that Grissom, Brass,
and Nick were still out there...it didn't help him forget. For all he
knew, they were running past him while he hid here like a wuss. A
coward.
'You're not fit to be a CSI...A real CSI would be out there
doing something!' and Greg shoved that thought down, muttering to
himself, "Now's not the time for your stupid insecurities, Greggo...!
Nothing you can do..." And yes, talking to one's self was not a great
sign of mental health, but there was a giant thing stampeding through
the crowd and turning people into-
'STOP! Just...stop right there. Let's not think about that.
Bad images popping up.' and his hands clenched into fists while he
ground his teeth tighter together, still trying to stop his own
scream from erupting. Praying to God-and if he existed Greg thought
it'd be absolutely spiffy if he came down to prove it-that everyone
was alright. Although...statistically, they're probably dead.
'Statistically you should be dead too, so shut up!'
"Okayokayokay..." he rapdily murmured, "Breathe...just
breathe. Everything will be fine. The army will send out
some...anti...whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is-weapon, or fighter jet,
or missile, or WHATEVER! Point is, we'll all be fine. Everyone will
be fine, and I'll get to get to go back to spending half of my day
with dead people, and finding out how they died. Everything will
be...'rock on'."
"Hello...?" The CSI jumped and grabbed his gun, pointing it
at a woman with only one thought in mind.
'Something's here! Something's here! Something's here!' And
then he noticed the little ten year old boy huddled behind the mom,
his tiny head fearfully peering at him from behind her long legs. It
was around then that Greg realized just what he was aiming at.
Quickly putting his gun back into the holster, he stumbled through a
sloppy apology, not bothering to meet her eyes. The woman offered him
a weak smile, quickly ushering her son down the rest of the basement
stairs as a particulary loud and desperate screech penetrated the
walls. The three of them sat in silence, none of them sure what to
say. Finally, the little boy broke the silence.
"Mommy, what's going on? I wanna' go home! I don't like it
here!" the woman quickly shushed her boy, warily glancing up at Greg
to make sure he wasn't annoyed or anything. End of the world be
damned, for all she knew he was a homicidal maniac with anger
management issues. But Greg just continued to stare at the ground,
his face blank.
"Honey, Mommy needs you to be quiet, alright? Everything's
fine, but for right now, we're going to be here, ok?" the boy looked
over to Greg.
"What about him?" he cocked his head to the side, innocent
green eyes taking the CSI in, "Is he alright, mommy? He looks
sick..." she opened her mouth to try and shush her son, but she was
cut off when Greg started chuckling. He shook his head, a small smile
on his face as he idly ran his finger over the concrete floor.
"That's the first time I've ever unintentionally scared a
kid. Sorry about that..." he paused, before grimly asked, "How bad is
it out there? I managed to escape here pretty early." She shook her
head, looking as lost as him.
"It's pretty bad...we shouldn't stay here too long." Greg
looked up in alarm.
"What? Why?"
"There's another one out there! It...it came from the city."
"The city? Like...Las Vegas? That city?" she nodded, "No
way!" he shook his head in rapid denial, "No fuckin' way!" he paused,
before he haltingly asked, "Did...did you actually see it?"
"Yeah...we were running away from that...that thing, when I
saw thunder...it was hitting the city."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! It was just like the thunderstorm here, hitting the
same spot over and over! We kept on running though, I mean...it's a
big city! It's like...nothing this bad could happen there!
Like...whatever that thing is would just stop at Vegas..." Greg
nodded, understanding her thoughts perfectly, "but...another thing
came out! Just...just...just minutes after that thunderstorm ended!"
"Minutes?! The other one took like...two hours before it
showed up, and even then, it wasn't instaneous! It waited a while
after the first leg appeared, and then it all came out! Why did this
one show up so fast?"
"Maybe...maybe because...because the other one already
started."
"Started what?"
"I dunno'...a massacre, an extermination...an invasion...?"
"Huh...invasion..." he raised a brow, contemplating the
possibilty. It was just easier to think about the most ridiculous
one, "This does seem like every alien movie I've ever seen...just
with robots."
"And lightening that activates them."
"And kills us all with rays of light."
"Yeah..." an awkward silence filled the room for a few more
minutes, "We should get out of here."
"The first one passed already, right? All the
screaming...that's just people running, right? I'm not feeling the
rumbling or the...that sound it makes! And the 'bzzt' noise is gone
too."
"Yeah, the first one passed, but the one from Vegas...it was
headed our way. So when everyone was runnning towards the city...we
saw it, and turned around. It's probably almost here. This building
could still be destroyed, you know."
"Then why did you hide here?"
"It made sense at the time. We needed a rest, we found an
empty house. But-"
"Did you see any cops?" he blurted, and damn it, he couldn't
resist asking. He needed to know, "I mean, when you were running,
either to Vegas or away from Vegas. Did you see any cops running
too?" Her eyes narrowed, grabbing her son closer to her, much to the
little boy's confusion.
"Cops? Why?" her voice got colder, "Are you in trouble with
the law?"
"What? No! Oh god-No! No! No! NO! No..." the CSI rapidly
denied, "It's just....I'm...uhh..." he fumbled through his pockets,
before he finally found what he was looking for. He took out his
badge and showed it to her, "CSI...." he hesitated, "Greg Sanders.
You?"
"Sandra...and this is Matt," she gestured to her son.
"You're...you're sure we should leave? Because...this place
survived-" he was cut off by the sound.
"M-Mommy..." She hugged him tight, whispering assurances in
his ear. Greg clenched his eyes shut again, wishing with every fiber
of his being that at least Nick was there with him. There was no way
he was going to be able to get through this without him. No way!
Seconds after the sound, the familiar "bzzt!" sounds followed by
desperate screams and pleas for help. Sandra quickly covered her
son's ears, murmuring a prayer into his hair, while Greg just
clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the whole thing.
'This isn't happening! This isn't happening! Oh god, this
isn't happening! Not again!'
But it was. And just like the first time, there wasn't a damn
thing he could do about it...
{{Not too long ago...}}
Greg frantically ran for his life. To the right of a him a
blurry rainbow colored beam shot out, and went through the woman
beside him, causing her to scream and burst into ash. He quickly
ducked into an alley, wildly looking for an escape route, for any
sign of a familiar face: Grissom, Brass...Nick, hell he'd be happy if
he found a random cop from the crime scene! At least then he knew
Grissom and Brass stood at least a chance of being alive, assuming
they made it to the crime scene before... before... before everything
just went to hell. He stayed hidden in the shadows, staring at the
machine with wide eyes, not entirely sure he hadn't just...snapped.
Really, the only warning he got before everything blew up
was...a sound. No...not a sound, but the sound. Greg had been minding
his own business, trying to swallow every feeling of dread and every
urge to get the hell out of there by the thought, 'Tommorrow it'll
all be over, and you're one stepping closer to becoming a full
fledged CSI!' Except...now he had serious doubts about the lab even
being around tommorrow. But he didn't have a clue that all of...this
would happen, so he just went and did his job. After he had taken a
few pictures, he heard the sound. It was like a foghorn...just a
thousand times louder. His first thought was, 'fish boat!' and then
he remembered 'there's no ocean around!' but before he could figure
out what it was, the ground shook again, and another leg shot out
from the concrete. Seconds later another followed, until the three
legs were spread out in a rough triangle, each coming out of the same
place...and then the shaking got rougher...
...And the rest of the thing appeared. Like a giant squid
from one of those corny sea movies, it rose out of the ground almost
majestically. The foghorn was heard again, and the giant, robotic eye
surveyed the people as it came out of the ground, it's red pupil
getting bigger and smaller as it adjusted to the light. When it was
fully erect, it towered over every building in the small town,
looking down on all of the people.
No one moved.
The humans and the machine stood in a small stalemate, until
little tentacles appeared out of the bottom of the thing's metal
head. Seconds later, the tentacles shot energy beams at the crowd.
The people it hit barely had time to scream before they burst into
ash. Another beam was released and took out a house, and another beam
was shot. And another...and another...and another....
And everyone was fleeing to get the hell out of dodge, Greg
included, but the machine took no mercies. Nothing was safe. He had
to ignore and pretend the ash appearing appearing on his clothes, on
his hands, in his hair, on his face wasn't from that little kid who
had been running in front of him, or that lady beside him, or that
guy that tried to pass him. And finally, he panicked, because he knew
there was no way he was going to outrun that giant thing! So that's
when he ducked into the alley, looking for anyone he knew, looking
for a place to hide. And he found it. He just sprint to the other
side of the street, pushing and shoving people out of his way, and
forced himself into the house. He didn't care if he was breaking in.
He didn't care if anyone was home. He only cared if the house had a
basement.
And it did.
And he hated himself for not being braver and going back out
there to look for Grissom, Brass, and Nick! For not being herioc and
trying to find his car so he could get to the crime lab and warn the
others, as if they couldn't see that giant monster headed toward
them. But still...any help was...helpful, right?
It didn't matter, because all he was doing was hiding there
like a snivelling little-
Sandra and Matt screamed with a horrible, devestating edge
lining their voices, forcing Greg off of memory lane. A beam shot
out through the house, tearing the ceiling away from over their
heads, and forcing what was left of the house to cave in. Greg, in an
instinctive and pitiful attempt to protect himself, tried to shield
his head from the falling debris with his arms.
Their screams were the last thing he heard.