CSI
Ties that blind... by candygirl1uk [Reviews - 3]
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The darkness of the Las Vegas night time, brings out the undesirables, the rapist, paedophiles, punks, hoods, cokeheads, crack heads, pimps, pushers, prostitutes, rent boys and girls, drunks, losers, flashers, gamblers; other people trying to forget who they were, yet others trying to find themselves…..


The murkiness brought out them all; gay, straight, bisexual, transsexuals, transvestites, as well as others from neither group, people whom society cannot or will not label. All sorts of colours and creeds flocked to the Las Vegas nightlife, regardless of even a social standing, all sorts migrated to the darkness.…

The shimmering lights of Las Vegas, a home away home, the night also hiding, suppressing the truth, the reality away from the tourists, the thrill seekers, the loved up honeymooners- who should be safely tucked up in their honeymoon suite, making love. The darkness, a mask to some, the truth to others, spills out aimlessly infecting everything and everyone in its path, parallel to a Stephen King or a Dean Koontz novel.

A male, walks out of a club, high on either drink sex or drugs- or maybe all three. He staggers towards a parked car; he falls over banging his face onto the curb. Not feeling the pain, not right now too high too care; he gets up, the onlookers around the male gape at him as he struggles to find his feet. The intoxicated man, stumbles trips, stumbles trips, his way for a few hundred meters towards a darkened alleyway.

“Frodo, Frodo, Frodo!” Words spill from his opened mouth, the name a distant memory. The man in his early thirties at least, however, his physical appearance ages the man maybe into his late forties….

The man trying to walk in a straight line fails, once again, he trips up, and this time getting up he feels his head swimming around inside his skull. His eyes glazed over, worse for ware. He sways as he walks, clipping cars, knocking over a freestanding newspaper board. The man hardly able to focus correctly places one foot in front of the other, his legs turning to jelly.

The drunken man rest on a deserted bench, he sees a figure walking towards him, dressed in black, the only visible features is the face. The intoxicated man gets up. His head is pounding, blood rushing towards his face.

“Hay there baby, wanna ride?”

The young man sighs in frustration. He grinds his teeth together.

Amazing what else can go wrong. Just great, a drunk to deal with, can my life be any better than this?

The young male tries to go round the looser, smelling stale smoke, fresh booze as well old crusty vomit. In addition, a touch of something else, but not dwelling too closely on that one, the man moves away from the drunk.

“Hey!” The drunken person swears, unable to see straight, he swaggers towards the figure. The alcoholic points towards the still form of the dark outline.
The younger man, shakes his head, taking down the hood, the spiky temporary dyed black hair becomes noticeable under the street light. His dark eyes stare at the freak standing before him.

“No!” The drunk gasps, attempting to conceal his mouth with a hand. The image of this youthful shadowy figure too much for him to see, he starts to quake hysterically…

“Hmm, who, I know that nose... Hmm, is it really…? No it can’t be can it?” The alcoholic replies, feeling his hairs on his body stand on end, as his skin starts to tingle in fear…
“Please No!” the man whimpers, finally understanding who this mysterious individual is.


“Who am I?” The younger man stands there, glaring at the downbeat, the glare full of wickedness, a sneer forms on his lips. The young person stretches his hands wide; he closes the tightly forming two angry fists.

“Lady Heathers… S-”
“What… Is… My …Name?” The man repeats again, this time louder, his hot breath mixing with the stench of the drunk.
“G… Greg!”

Greg stands there, snarling once again, his handsome features distorted by the malevolence leaking from him. Performing his part, so very skilfully, he glances towards the now sober appearance of the middle-aged man. He grabs the now terrified man by the cuff of his jumper, Greg stares intensely at the frightened man. Greg’s entire features change, now a deep dark look, somewhat a dangerous emotion slink into his appearance.

“Get out of my sight!” Greg snaps, pushing the man away from him, the smell of vomit seeping into his nostrils; a sick repulsed look replaces the glance of terror. Greg turns away, uncaring if the drunk still there or vanished. He walks away towards his destination, the night once again consuming his existence. Greg now smiles to himself, as he hears the footsteps disappearing down the street.

The quietness of the air quickly returns the only sound coming from Greg’s direction were the swishing of his long black coat around his legs.


A brown haired hooker, on the other side of the street watches the interaction between the dark figure of Greg and the drunk. She watches the younger man intently, trying to figure out who the darkly clad person was….

“Hay Kristy, snap out of it will you” A young fellow hooker a dark skinned woman calls to Kristy.
“Carmen, did you see that?”
“See what Kristy?” Carmen replied as she turns her attention towards adjusting her large cleavage, pushing them deep into her tight short smaller top. Her Afro hair bobs up and down as she does this. Kristy a tall thin Caucasian woman leans against a street lamp bored.
“There was a man there…”
“Aww, sugar don’t you worry about that man, he’s probably a fool anyway, besides there’s a fine man walking this way. Smile baby girl we may just get our selves some food tonight”





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Nick a twenty three year old man, walks in the direction of the club. The night time is his time. A shiver runs down his back, as he speedily walks towards his workplace. Nick pulls tightly his long black coat. Still he shivers, wearing next to nothing underneath the coat, the Nevada breeze chilling him to the core.

Knowing his way around Vegas in the night, Nick felt comfortable in his sound knowledge of his environment. His personal achievements include his knowledge of; where the entire drop INS were held the times and the dates respectively, where the shelters were for a lost soul to stay. Nick even prided himself with the whereabouts of the best clubs, which club to party at, which club to seen in, and which club to stay away.

A smile sets on his face, as he thinks of his identity….

Sometimes people call me straight, at times I seem gay; on occasion, I even appear bisexual. Other times I yet appear as a willing victim…. Images are funny really; I can be who I want to be… Playing, being an idea, helps me be the being I am today. Really its all about perception or deception… That is the name of the game. Making a person believe in a fantasy… Nick runs his hands through his medium length hair, cursing himself for not getting it cut. He glances at his wristwatch.

“Fuck!” He curses aloud, going to’ be frigging late….

Forgetting to eat, he cringes, as his stomach rumbles in discontent. Wishing now, he took a lift from his friend Archie. Stupid really considering that Archie works at the same place of business…

Nick hastens his stride, once again glancing at his watch.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck it!” He swears aloud, venting his newfound frustration….









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