Rated T for language that is to come. First in a series! Rebooting my entire series, to make it less serious and more fun for me to write. You can see my profile to view the stories I have planned for this reboot. Please R&R! Let me know if you want MORE! :)

Chapter One

Each year, thousands of criminalists flock to Fargo, North Dakota for the annual Evidence Engagement Conference, where forensic technicians and investigators share the latest tips of the trade in regards to their specialization. Others—including detectives, lawyers, and criminalist wannabes come to observe, learn, and drink themselves into a stupor over the three-day duration of the conference which could pass as a frat party.

Early off in the year, presenters receive a letter of appreciative begging that ties them to a promise of national recognition and an upgraded hotel room with a spa package or free golf play. They are then whisked off to Fargo with other attendees and are shoved into a two-bed hotel room that lacks a coffee pot and a hairdryer, but can have an ironing board upon request. The inn has no pool, no spa, and no private golf course. Attendees of the conference have come to refer to it as The Shack.

The only issue with the EE Conference is that it was held on different days in different months every year. The previous year had been late March, and the year before early August during a heat wave. 2012's conference was being held in mid-January, much to the excitement of attendees who had had to work on New Year's Eve and wanted nothing more than to get liquored up and make a fool of themselves. January also meant that presenters had been given eight week's notice to the conference.

DNA Expert and CSI Natalia Boa Vista was oblivious to the lies of a spa package and Febreze-scented single hotel room, as she had never participated in the EE Conference before. To her it was a break from getting kidnapped and solving cases, and she had spent the past eight weeks fantasizing about presenting to her peers and getting a pedicure. Fargo wasn't the ideal vacation location, but it would suffice. All she had to do was put up with fellow CSI Ryan Wolfe, and Asshole.

Asshole, as he was affectionatelycalled by all members of law enforcement and the entirety of the Miami-Dade fire department, was an arson investigator who found humour in pushing people's buttons and was famous for his excruciating stubbornness. Asshole also went by Underwood, his surname. No one knew his first name, and no one bothered to ask. "Asshole" worked well enough. He stood at about six feet tall, had broad shoulders, chestnut hair and emerald-coloured eyes. He had a killer smile, tattoos on his arms, and an adorable six year old daughter named Grace whose mother had taken herself out of the picture soon after the birth of her child, leaving a shocked Underwood with a baby that he never knew was even conceived. One DNA test later, Grace went home with her father. Women only drooled long enough to hear words leave his mouth, and then proceeded to run for the hills.

For this, Natalia was thankful that Ryan was tagging along. He was possibly close to Asshole on the stubbornness scale, and the two had had a few bad run-ins, although none of them had lead to full-out fist fights. Underwood and Delko were another story; there was a long history of fist fights and disagreements and name-calling. Only those that had been around those twelve-or-so years ago when the spite first started knew what the intense hatred revolved around and none of them would spill the beans, leaving Natalia and the other "newcomers" in the dark.

The morning of the twelfth, Asshole had strolled into the crime lab with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face. Ryan had greeted him with a fist bump, as if they had been life-long pals. This allowed for Natalia to breathe a sigh of relief. Ryan and Asshole had never been to the conference, and were going to observe rather than present. Ryan was going because he had some holiday days left, and Asshole because he needed to "learn to understand what the hell they were saying in their reports". The trio had then shuttled to the airport with bags in tow, and had boarded a plane to Chicago where they were to meet up with other attendees and take another plane to Fargo. However, it was the second week of January, and the weather had decided not to cooperate.

"What do you mean there won't be any flights? There's ten of us, and more on the way that need to get to Fargo!" Ryan leaned on the desk of an airport information booth, his comrades seated behind him on uncomfortable metal seats.

The lady at the desk looked agitated herself. "Sir, the entire region of the country is in a blizzard. I'm sorry. Unfortunately, I can't control the weather."

They had landed in Chicago only to find that Father Winter had invaded the northern states in record time, the snow beginning to fall just half an hour before they had touched down. Within forty minutes all flights to surrounding states had been cancelled.

"Good job, Wolfe. I think she likes you." Asshole shot a dark smile up to the male CSI from behind a newspaper.

"Go to hell," Ryan said, sitting next to him.

Natalia was on the other side of Ryan, as far as she could get away from Asshole as possible. She had already warned the other female attendees of his women-scaring tactics. "Did you ever think that maybe everyone else in the airport has yelled at her for something that's not her fault?"

Wolfe made a face, and slumped back in the seat. "Now what?"

One of the other attendees, a short dark-haired woman who looked like she was barely out of high school, scurried over to the group from the doors of the airport. "I just called the conference organizer. We're supposed to take our plane tickets to the Amtrak, and they will accept them and take us to Fargo."

"So we're going by train?" Ryan voiced the dumb-struck expressions that relayed on the faces of the group.

"Mhm. Everyone grab their things. We got to get to the Amtrak as quickly as possible." The young woman ushered them out of their seats. "There's already another group of people waiting there for us, and the train leaves just after two."

The group of conference attendees arrived at Union Station at ten to two, frozen to the bone and in a rush to find their departure waiting area. The young woman who they had learned was named Emily wasted no time asking for directions to their terminal, and led the tired group to their destination. They made it just in time for boarding.

"So when do we get to Fargo?" Ryan asked as they shoved their way onto the train.

"Somewhere around three in the morning." Natalia struggled to pull her bag up the steps that led onto the railcar. "The snow may hinder that."

Once they were inside the railcar, the group dispersed. As they didn't have assigned seats—or tickets in general, they could choose to sit wherever they wanted. Asshole pushed past the two CSIs and made his way to the front of the section of train. When he got to the door, he turned back to them. "Well, come on! Follow the leader!"

Ryan and Natalia looked to each other, shrugged, and followed after him.

Asshole led them through another railcar, and then another, and then another. He was skimming the aisles, ignoring numerous empty seats.

"Asshole, just pick a section already!" Ryan snapped, catching the attention of the other passengers who proceeded to glare at him.

The arson investigator gave Ryan the finger, and continued on his merry way through the railcars. When they reached the section of train that was third in line from the head car, Asshole stopped abruptly, nearly causing Natalia and Ryan to run into him. Asshole seemed to smile to himself, and said, "Perfect."

Ryan and Natalia shook their heads, and watched as Asshole sauntered over to a section of seats that was occupied by a lone auburn-haired woman. He seated himself across from her, and dropped his bag at his feet. The two CSIs quietly stood before the section of seats, and Ryan nudged Natalia.

Natalia cleared her throat to catch the woman's attention. "Excuse me? Not to intrude, but do you mind if we sit here?" She then glared across to Asshole. "Please forgive my co-worker here, as he lacks people skills."

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman lifted her eyes to Asshole, who had buried his face back behind a newspaper. Her face twitched, and her gaze shifted to the two CSIs. "Go right ahead, as asshole here has already made himself company."

Ryan pushed Natalia, who stood with her mouth agape at the woman's response, towards the seat next to the redhead and seated himself next to Asshole. "That's funny. That's what we call him back in Miami."

The woman focused intently on Asshole's face. "I know. I was the one that gave him the nickname."