Greetings! Before I let you go on any further, I have to point out that this is a joint story with xDollix. We share a geeky passion for CSI NY and decide to collaborate on this little number.

Disclaimer: We don't own CSI NY nor do we own the title technically, its a quote from Gone in 60 Seconds.

As you may have guessed, the story will contain gore as per usual of CSI and there will also be some swearing, just cus its fun =D

For the city that never slept New York could seem so still at times. Like when the summer months were blasting out the last of their rough heat, burning the leaves to orange and red, and the endless tide of people became as sluggish as the melting tar on the roads. When the buildings glimmered and shimmered, their windows like bright, blank eyes and mouths full of glass teeth - a great sprawling mirage that would swallow you whole. Many had tried to take a chunk out of that shiny surface to get to the rotting innards. And on a day like today those innards were bubbling.

A shot sounded, bursting through the thick air and shattering against the still, warm spaces around the people on the street. People screamed and tried to hurl themselves instinctively away from the threat. More shots, accompanied by yelling voices, and a dark shape hurtled from an alleyway and into the flinching ocean of people, ducking and shoving and desperate. Other shapes followed, shouting in thick vests and sweaty shirts, with badges that glinted with sharp reassurance in the sun. A warmer glint than the light flashing from their carefully held guns. They pelted after their prey as he plowed red faced and panting through the crowds on the street. He sped down a side alley and through a door hanging precariously from rusted hinges. It toppled noisily behind him and the police officers followed their guns as they tracked him into the stifling air of someone's basement.

The first officer slowed the others and stepped cautiously into the warm shadows, bright blue eyes darting and angry. His black hair was soaked with sweat, but his breath was even, despite the impromptu sprint. His feet crunched quietly on the dirt and debris under them as he placed them slowly and deliberately on the floor. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, but he didn't so much as blink. He couldn't afford to with an armed suspect hiding somewhere in the dark. He strained in the darkness, concentrating on distinguishing the sounds outside from the ones in this cavernous hideout. He contemplated announcing his arrival, maybe scare the perp into moving. But he decided the subtle approach would be more suitable - this guy was fast and he didn't want to give away his position. The suspect however appeared to have chosen the first method and suddenly bolted from behind a wall, heading for the chink of light at the opposite end of the basement.

"NYPD! Stop where you are!" The officer's voice boomed out in the warm darkness, as he was followed inside by his uniformed colleagues, the light from their torches skittering back and forth across the room. The runner's outline suddenly disappeared and there was a sharp yelp of surprise from up ahead. Before he could get back on his feet there were half a dozen, police issue, nine millimeter Glocks aimed at his head. The first officer's foot made contact with something as he bent to cuff the now captive suspect. He clicked his black torch on and the beam passed over a pair of feet. An all too familiar coldness filled the tall man's stomach as he shone the light over the rest of the body.

"Guys, step back," he said as he saw it was a man, his face slashed open in a spray of red around his mouth and his eyes wide and staring. He reached for his radio, just behind his holster and raised it to his mouth.

"This is Detective Flack. I need to report a homicide on West 34th and 10th Avenue. I'm gonna need forensics and the coroner down here immediately."

The strange stillness had spread into the basement - though the dirty, dusty room was now filled with hot lights and bustling people, the group of three men standing looking down at the prone, blood spattered form on the ground seemed to inhabit their own small and quiet space amongst it all.

One of them lowered himself slowly into a crouch, eyes flickering between the long, jagged gap of the corpse's mouth and the neat red hole in the middle of the pale, waxy forehead.

"He's been here at least 24 hours, Mac." the man murmured, his voice deep and gentle and carrying easily in the stillness. The man to whom he'd spoken nodded silently, his gaze momentarily weary, though he exuded a reassuring strength, and the weariness faded quickly back behind contemplation and consideration.

"He doesn't appear to have been moved." he added, voice as steady as his persona.

"Yeah, check that out." Flack shone his torch onto a spot on the wall the lights on the stands didn't reach. There was a large amount of dried blood on the concrete blocks, grotesquely red in the dim light, shining morbidly amongst the dust and grime.

"High velocity blood spatter. He was shot here." said Mac, shining his own torch over the spray of blood and small fragments of brain matter. In amongst the mess, there was a bullet lodged in the grey concrete. The man who had spoken first confirmed it as he turned the body on its side.

"Yeah, there's an exit wound almost at the base of his skull."

"Alright Hawkes, get him ready to go to Sid and I'll start processing what's left of the scene."

Hawkes nodded and sighed, wiping at the drops of sweat beading across his dark skin, his equally dark eyes fixed on the bloody hollow of the victim's mouth.

"He certainly won't be talking to us any time soon." He breathed, seeming heavy with the sad resignation of someone who has seen many lives snatched away too soon.

Mac glanced up from his kit and replied, voice grim and sure,

"Then we'll let the evidence do the talking."

- Three Days Earlier -

"Out here in the fields! I fight for my meals!" Painted lips traced the shapes of the words along with the radio blasting from a sleek, black sports car. "I get my back into my living!" The young woman sat on the hood of the car, the sun furiously heating the metal below her denim clad legs. Her singing paused for a moment as she took a draw from a roll up and held the fumes in. Bluish smoke leaked slowly from between her lips and she leaned back further onto the wind screen. "I don't need to be forgiven! Yeah yeah yeah..." Her voice trailed into a murmur as she was interrupted by a loud buzzing noise. She sat upright and lifted her oversized, highly reflective aviator sunglasses up into deep red curls to see more clearly. After a moment of squinting into the distance, she got up and strode quickly to the large, metal gate in front of her as it slid open slowly. A smirk played across pink, gloss covered lips as a tall, slim figure, dressed all in black, emerged from the heat haze shimmering across the dusty ground. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts and took another draw from the roll up now hanging limply from her mouth. Stopping just short of a small wooden booth, the young woman waved to the person leaving the large, grey walled building.

"Well damn, here was me thinking I'd be gettin' a cab home." The taller girl called with a smirk and a heavy accent, as she ran to her waiting friend, who pulled her into a tight embrace and held on.

"Don't suppose I can interest you in a draw, my dear Eleanor?" The red head teased as they separated.

"Hell yeah, girl." Heavy lidded, green eyes shone with a deep, ecstatic relief as she practically snatched the smoldering joint from between her shorter companion's fingers. Eleanor took a long, well anticipated draw, pulling that little bit of toxic freedom deep into her lungs. Two years of four walls and a purgatory of concrete, steel and prison yard scraps had finally come to an end and she was most definitely looking forward to getting as wasted as possible, as quickly as possible.

"Ah Lilliana, smoking weed right outside the jail that I've just been released from...how typically you." Eleanor laughed fondly and ruffled Lily's hair.

"There's vodka in the glove compartment too." Lily added, as she jumped into the driver's seat of the car while Eleanor dumped her barely filled hold all in the back seat.

"Well you do come prepared! Sweet ride by the way." Eleanor got in the passenger side and pulled the small glass bottle from the drawer in front of her. She screwed up her face as she took a swig of the burning liquid, feeling her stomach squirm in protest, but the rest of her tingle with satisfaction.

"Yes, lovely little 1974 Chevy Camaro." Lily ran a loving hand over the black steering wheel and grinned. "Uncle Marty… 'acquired' it a few months ago and restored her from the wreck he got her in. Said it suited me and that I should pick you up in it." She added as she pulled a pair of black, thick framed glasses from the recently installed cup holder and put them on. "Best not drive half blind and slightly stoned."

Eleanor laughed loudly and wildly, loving the buoyant feeling in her chest and the answering grin on her friend's face. Then Lily started the engine and the car sped off, leaving nothing but dust and hot concrete in its wake.