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kathierif_ficTitle: Crimefighers Origin
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Summary: How it all began
Warnings: /
Word Count: 1247
A/Ns: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bingo, prompt Superpowers. The title is a hommage to marvel :)
His breath was already coming in short gasps that burned deep in his chest. His heart was beating sharp and hard against the inside of his ribs, the echoes of it vibrating in his fingertips and the spasming muscles in his thighs.
Danny Messer had followed his fleeing suspect for what felt like hours now; had run after him into this building without waiting for back-up. He knew that the man, several feet ahead of him, would escape if he stopped for as much as needing the deep breath his lungs so obviously yearned for, and he couldn’t stand the thought that a rapist and murderer would get away just because Danny couldn’t keep ip with his light-footed speed.
The chase had led him here, an abandoned, old warehouse that, even from the outside, looked rotten and close to simply collapsing in on its own. Danny gripped his weapon tighter and stepped inside, his speed only slightly decreasing, in case he’d been lured into a trap and his suspect was waiting for him in the shadows beyond the rusted-away doors.
He didn’t have to be worried.
The warehouse was almost dark inside, the only light coming from small, dusty windows and several holes in the roof. Danny could make out the outlines of huge, rusty barrels and vats before he was distracted by the sound of hasty steps.
They came from somewhere above him, he realized over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and they definitely were too loud, too heavy to come from rats or other small animals looking for shelter here.
A quick check revealed a network of steel walkways overhead, and Danny looked around searchingly until he spotted the narrow steel staircase that led up in a dark corner half behind him.
Determined not to let his suspect get away, Danny moved toward it. He was still breathing heavily, and a sudden draft of musty, cold air made him shiver almost violently in his sweat-soaked clothes.
Still, his determination to catch this guy and get him off the streets was unbroken and without further hesitation, he stepped on the first step of the staircase.
The metal under his boots was dangerously slick, the handrail rusty and swinging loose, but Danny didn’t dare slowing down or turning around.
It wouldn’t be his fear that would let this guy get away, he swore under his still labored breathing. There wouldn’t be a reason for Mac to be disappointed in him, not this time.
He wouldn’t let this one get away.
Despite his intentions, he found himself slowing down even further as he reached the catwalk.
The slick metal under his feet was groaning and swinging dangerously under each of his steps, and the handrail looked even less trustworthy up here.
He glanced down. Swallowing thickly, he suddenly realized how deep he would fall if he lost his balance.
It wasn’t a happy thought, he had to admit, but the good thing was that he wasn’t the only one who had to move slow and careful up here. His suspect had to fight the same conditions as he did.
Danny carefully set one foot in front of the other, slowly picking his way across the metal shifting under his weight and groaning discouragingly, but Danny only clenched his teeth and glanced back, to where he’d come from. He’d already crossed half the warehouse and was closer to the other side of it. It would be safer to just go on than to turn around now.
A quick glance downwards revealed that he was standing above the huge, silent vats right now, and Danny felt a drop of sweat trickle down the length of his spine as he realized how precarious his situation was.
There was no going back now, he reminded himself firmly and took another step forward.
His foot slipped on something soft and squishy, and for a split, heart-stopping moment Danny thought that was it, but he managed to regain his balance at the last second.
A quick glance down revealed that he’d stepped into the cadaver of a rat, long dead by the look of things.
He shuddered in disgust and bit back the urge to gag while shifting his body forward, closer to the end of the catwalk. His thoughts were simply focused on getting out of this situation alive now, the need to catch the suspect shifting away to make room for the much deeper ingrained struggle for survival.
He took another step closer to safety when the vibrations under his feet suddenly increased and changed and he was pushed into the frail-looking handrail. It broke with a slick crunch under his weight.
For a second, Danny was hanging suspended in the thin air. His gun slipped out of his fingers and fell, a clatter of metal on metal as it landed on top of one of the vats, bounced once and slipped along its edge, to fall further and hit the ground, and then, Danny was falling.
He tried to reach for the catwalk, to cling to it and possibly drag himself back up and to safety, but his flailing arms couldn’t make contact.
He fell, his body twisting and turning, and then, he hit the rusty vat underneath him and broke through the lid, submerging into cold, dark and slick liquid.
He didn’t know how long he floated in the liquid. He didn’t know how much of hit he had swallowed or how much of it he had absorbed through his skin. He was sure that he’d lost consciousness for just a split second before the icy cold of his surroundings shocked him back into awareness and he began to struggle weakly to get out. His fingers slipped a few times on the edge of the hole he’d made as he’d fallen into the vat, and he slipped back into the liquid, but finally, he managed to pull himself out and rolled toward the edge of the vat.
He fell to the ground underneath him without any control over his violently trembling muscles and he barely managed to curl up into a small ball when he landed.
The liquid had long dried on his skin, his suspect escaped, and still Danny shifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t afraid – he knew Mac would find him and that he would be safe.
Mac would take care of him. He knew that much as he knew that his name was Danny Messer and that the Earth was spinning around the sun. No matter how often he lost his consciousness, how hard his muscles trembled and how weak he felt, he never lost faith in those things.
~*+*~
Mac had found him, hours later; had taken him home and had patiently stood by him as the fever wrecked his body and as the first signs of his mutations had manifested. He hadn’t flinched at the brief phase of Danny’s telepathy, had endured the longer phase of super-strength and broken furniture, but it was when Don almost died and, in the desperate attempt to save his life, parts of his body had been replaced with electronics and metal, that they really started to take advantage of their powers: The cyborg-strength of Don’s enhanced body, the psychic manifestations of Danny’s encounter with the radioactive liquid in that warehouse, and of course the batman-like stoicism that Mac displayed when dealing with them.
Together, they spent their days fighting crime –
…and their nights, too.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Summary: How it all began
Warnings: /
Word Count: 1247
A/Ns: Written for
au_bingo, prompt Superpowers. The title is a hommage to marvel :)His breath was already coming in short gasps that burned deep in his chest. His heart was beating sharp and hard against the inside of his ribs, the echoes of it vibrating in his fingertips and the spasming muscles in his thighs.
Danny Messer had followed his fleeing suspect for what felt like hours now; had run after him into this building without waiting for back-up. He knew that the man, several feet ahead of him, would escape if he stopped for as much as needing the deep breath his lungs so obviously yearned for, and he couldn’t stand the thought that a rapist and murderer would get away just because Danny couldn’t keep ip with his light-footed speed.
The chase had led him here, an abandoned, old warehouse that, even from the outside, looked rotten and close to simply collapsing in on its own. Danny gripped his weapon tighter and stepped inside, his speed only slightly decreasing, in case he’d been lured into a trap and his suspect was waiting for him in the shadows beyond the rusted-away doors.
He didn’t have to be worried.
The warehouse was almost dark inside, the only light coming from small, dusty windows and several holes in the roof. Danny could make out the outlines of huge, rusty barrels and vats before he was distracted by the sound of hasty steps.
They came from somewhere above him, he realized over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and they definitely were too loud, too heavy to come from rats or other small animals looking for shelter here.
A quick check revealed a network of steel walkways overhead, and Danny looked around searchingly until he spotted the narrow steel staircase that led up in a dark corner half behind him.
Determined not to let his suspect get away, Danny moved toward it. He was still breathing heavily, and a sudden draft of musty, cold air made him shiver almost violently in his sweat-soaked clothes.
Still, his determination to catch this guy and get him off the streets was unbroken and without further hesitation, he stepped on the first step of the staircase.
The metal under his boots was dangerously slick, the handrail rusty and swinging loose, but Danny didn’t dare slowing down or turning around.
It wouldn’t be his fear that would let this guy get away, he swore under his still labored breathing. There wouldn’t be a reason for Mac to be disappointed in him, not this time.
He wouldn’t let this one get away.
Despite his intentions, he found himself slowing down even further as he reached the catwalk.
The slick metal under his feet was groaning and swinging dangerously under each of his steps, and the handrail looked even less trustworthy up here.
He glanced down. Swallowing thickly, he suddenly realized how deep he would fall if he lost his balance.
It wasn’t a happy thought, he had to admit, but the good thing was that he wasn’t the only one who had to move slow and careful up here. His suspect had to fight the same conditions as he did.
Danny carefully set one foot in front of the other, slowly picking his way across the metal shifting under his weight and groaning discouragingly, but Danny only clenched his teeth and glanced back, to where he’d come from. He’d already crossed half the warehouse and was closer to the other side of it. It would be safer to just go on than to turn around now.
A quick glance downwards revealed that he was standing above the huge, silent vats right now, and Danny felt a drop of sweat trickle down the length of his spine as he realized how precarious his situation was.
There was no going back now, he reminded himself firmly and took another step forward.
His foot slipped on something soft and squishy, and for a split, heart-stopping moment Danny thought that was it, but he managed to regain his balance at the last second.
A quick glance down revealed that he’d stepped into the cadaver of a rat, long dead by the look of things.
He shuddered in disgust and bit back the urge to gag while shifting his body forward, closer to the end of the catwalk. His thoughts were simply focused on getting out of this situation alive now, the need to catch the suspect shifting away to make room for the much deeper ingrained struggle for survival.
He took another step closer to safety when the vibrations under his feet suddenly increased and changed and he was pushed into the frail-looking handrail. It broke with a slick crunch under his weight.
For a second, Danny was hanging suspended in the thin air. His gun slipped out of his fingers and fell, a clatter of metal on metal as it landed on top of one of the vats, bounced once and slipped along its edge, to fall further and hit the ground, and then, Danny was falling.
He tried to reach for the catwalk, to cling to it and possibly drag himself back up and to safety, but his flailing arms couldn’t make contact.
He fell, his body twisting and turning, and then, he hit the rusty vat underneath him and broke through the lid, submerging into cold, dark and slick liquid.
He didn’t know how long he floated in the liquid. He didn’t know how much of hit he had swallowed or how much of it he had absorbed through his skin. He was sure that he’d lost consciousness for just a split second before the icy cold of his surroundings shocked him back into awareness and he began to struggle weakly to get out. His fingers slipped a few times on the edge of the hole he’d made as he’d fallen into the vat, and he slipped back into the liquid, but finally, he managed to pull himself out and rolled toward the edge of the vat.
He fell to the ground underneath him without any control over his violently trembling muscles and he barely managed to curl up into a small ball when he landed.
The liquid had long dried on his skin, his suspect escaped, and still Danny shifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t afraid – he knew Mac would find him and that he would be safe.
Mac would take care of him. He knew that much as he knew that his name was Danny Messer and that the Earth was spinning around the sun. No matter how often he lost his consciousness, how hard his muscles trembled and how weak he felt, he never lost faith in those things.
~*+*~
Mac had found him, hours later; had taken him home and had patiently stood by him as the fever wrecked his body and as the first signs of his mutations had manifested. He hadn’t flinched at the brief phase of Danny’s telepathy, had endured the longer phase of super-strength and broken furniture, but it was when Don almost died and, in the desperate attempt to save his life, parts of his body had been replaced with electronics and metal, that they really started to take advantage of their powers: The cyborg-strength of Don’s enhanced body, the psychic manifestations of Danny’s encounter with the radioactive liquid in that warehouse, and of course the batman-like stoicism that Mac displayed when dealing with them.
Together, they spent their days fighting crime –
…and their nights, too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-13 06:16 pm (UTC)