A/N: New story time! I've been wanting to write this story for years, and I have finally gotten the inspiration to write for it. I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this whole story.

Warnings: Death, rape, self-harm... there will probably be more things like these listed as I continue to write.

A bright red light flashes above me. It lights the room up for three seconds at a time before plunging it back into darkness for two. I groan as a dull ache throbs its way across the back of my head and the tangy smell of blood fills my nose. As I try to sit up, I immediately find that I am unable to. Looking down, I see that my hands and feet are strapped down to the shiny metal table I'm laying on. But that's not the worst part...

I'm strapped down to a metal table, completely naked.

My breath hitches in my throat as I begin to try and break free, but the straps are not budging. If anything, they're getting tighter around my extremities. Looking around the room, I try to find any clue as to where I am, but the only things I find in the flashing red light's glow are a bunch of pipes twisting above my head and a large steel door to my left.

Before I know it, tears are pouring down my face as I begin to hyperventilate. Looking back up at the light, I try to time my erratic breathing along to it's flashing, but it doesn't work. My lungs are working overtime as I attempt to process everything.

I was at the rink.

I was waiting for my best friend to show up so we could practice.

I was on the ice.

Someone called my name.

Everything went black.

Now here I am, completely naked, strapped down to a metal table, with know idea of how I got here or how long I've been here. Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? Is my family looking for me? Do they even know I'm missing? Does Ke-"

My thoughts are halted the moment the large metal door opens. A person walks through the door, a hyper-realistic wolf mask covering their face. I just thought my breathing was erratic earlier. Now it's like there is absolutely no air circulating through my lungs. As the figure approaches the table, I do the first thing any sane person would do in this situation. I scream.

Wrong move.

The red light glints off of the knife the person seems to have drawn out of thin air. I see it for the three seconds the light stays on, and within the following two second span of darkness, they slash the knife across my cheek. I scream again, but this time in pain. It hisses at me as it makes another cut across my shoulder, and I realize it wants me to stop screaming. Instead I begin to whimper.

"Wh-why am I here? What d-do you w-want from m-me?"

"I want you out of the way." It speaks with a deep, mincing voice.

Tears fill my eyes, and before I can get another word or scream to push out of my lungs, my world is plunged into an eternal darkness.

"He shoots, he scores!" James yells, as he leans back in his chair, making crowd noises behind his cupped hands after successfully throwing a paper wad into the trashcan across the room.

"Cut it out, James!"

"C'mon, Logie! I'm just trying to have some fun."

"How many times have I told you not to call me that at work?" Logan huffed, swiveling around in his chair so James could see the annoyed look on his face. "This is a professional place, so act like it."

"Sorry that I'm just trying to lighten the mood... I don't like being swamped in all of these files full of depression for long periods of time." James mumbled, returning to the paperwork piled up on his desk.

"Then why the hell did you decide to become a homicide detective?"

"You know that wasn't the original plan. And plus, when you get promoted around here, you don't turn it down."

Logan nodded. He knew that becoming detectives was not the original path both boys wanted to pursue. Since the age of six, all James and Logan wanted to do was become cops like their dad's. They grew up side-by-side, admiring their dads as they protected the small town they once lived in. They've been together through the best and the worst of times, and in the end, it only made their friendship stronger. After graduating high school, they moved to Minneapolis and ended up in the police academy, like they always planned. Within the next few years, as a team, James and Logan soared through the ranks and went from foot cops, to drug unit, all the way up to homicide detectives. With James' keen eye and Logan's quick thinking, the two together were a force to be reckoned with. The Minneapolis' police force had never seen anything like the young duo, and they probably will never see another pair of men like them.

"And it's not like I hate doing what we do," James continued as he lowered his head to look at his hands, his shaggy brunette hair falling into his hazel eyes, "I just have to take breaks every once in a while. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." Logan took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Jay. I'm not mad at you. I'm frustrated with myself. I just can't seem to crack this case," he gestures towards the file laying open on his cluttered desk.

James got out of his chair and walked over to his partner's desk. Scanning his eyes over the file, he read the name and date at the top of a kidnapping case. Kevin Benson, 1994. James tapped his finger on the top paper and looked over at his friend.

"This is a cold case from the nineties, Logan. We were like five when this happened. You probably won't find anything."

"I know, but there is so many missing links in this file. The detective who was assigned this case didn't do half of what they were supposed to. I-"

Logan was cut off by the shrill ringing of James' work phone. James answered quickly, giving hums in agreement before saying that they would be right there.

"Murder at the ice rink on Bleaker Street." James said as both he and Logan grabbed their guns, badges, and coats before heading out the door.

Both men hopped into James' car, strapping in before the brunette sped away from the station. They drove in silence, and about twelve minutes later they pulled up to the scene. Police cars filled the parking lot as pedestrians tried to get past the yellow tape to see what was going on. They flashed their badges as they walked up to the yellow barrier, and were allowed in immediately. Walking into the rink, they found Kelly talking to a burly man and a teenager. Kelly had just joined their division, so she was taking on any and every case she could. As they approached her, she finished up talking to the man and the teen.

"Hey, what happened." Logan asked, scanning the rink.

Kelly flipped open her note pad and replied, "Male, late teens. The owner of the rink found him this morning when he was opening at eight-thirty. No word on cause of death yet, and the missing persons database is being searched as we speak."

"Is Camille here yet?" James asked as Kelly began to lead them to the rink.

"She got here a few minutes ago. She's examining the body right now." Stepping up to the side of the rink, Kelly pulled two pairs of skates off the stands, handing them over to James and Logan before she started to put on her own pair. "Owner demanded everyone wearing skates so we don't mess up the ice."

Looking around, they saw the whole task force skating around the rink, collecting evidence. Both men nodded as they started to step into their skates.

"Just like old times, eh, Logan?"

"Yeah, except we played hockey instead of examining dead bodies." Logan said dryly.

Nodding sternly, realizing this was not the time nor the place for that, James stood up and made his way onto the ice, Kelly and Logan following right behind him. Sliding to a stop in front of the home goal, James and Logan took in the scene.

Camille was crouched down in front of the goal, examining the body within it. The boy was tided to the top of the goal by rope that led to his wrists, keeping his upper body up as his head hung toward his chest. The ropes that held the boy up were so tight around his wrists that they left the skin bruised and lacerated. From what James could see, the rest of kid's skin was also littered with cuts and bruises. Blood was dried in his chocolate brown hair, leaving it stiffly matted to his skull, and it appeared that the only article of clothing on the excessively pale body was an over-sized yellow and maroon hockey jersey.

"Hey, Cam." Logan said as he skated to the medical examiner's side. "You have any idea what happened?"

"Well," Camille stood up, turning to the small group of detectives as she straightened out her skirt, "his face is completely unrecognizable, so I'll have to wait for dental records to find out who he is. I think asphyxiation was the ultimate cause of death, although I'm sure the blunt force trauma to his skull and the amount blood loss also played a heavy hand. And, seeing as he is only wearing a jersey, I suspect that there was also some sort of sexual trauma. Though, I won't be able to confirm these theories until I get him back to the lab."

"Was he murdered here?" Kelly asked.

Before Camille could speak, Logan pipes up, saying, "No. There would be blood all over the place. The ice around him is almost spotless."

"Yes, I suspect that he was brought here after he died. He's been dead for roughly sixteen hours, but his body temp doesn't match that time frame. If he had been killed here, his body would be frosted over by now."

The trio nodded as they began to inspect the area around the goal, searching for further evidence. James moved closer to the body and crouched down to where he could look at the boy's face. Gashes and nasty purple and black bruises masked his face, making him look more like a bloated elephant than a human. As he continued to look over the boy's face, something yellow caught his eye. It was sticking out from in-between boy's blue lips.

"Camille, what's this?"

"What's what?"

"This yellow thing sticking out of his mouth." James said as he pointed to it. Camille also couched down to where she could look at the kid's face.

"I don't know... How did I miss that?" she said as she gently pulled the object out from between his blue lips with a gloved hand.

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"It's a piece of paper." Camille held a small ball of yellow paper in her palm, showing it to the others. She began to open it up, and her face crinkled with confusion. "There is something written on it."

"What does it say?"

"I can't make it out. His saliva smudged the ink. But, I should be able to recover it. Kelly, come lend me a hand." And with that, the two women skated over to the edge of the rink where James could see Camille's medical bag sitting.

"What do you think happened?" James mused, as he circled the body.

"You know I don't like to gue-"

"Dak!"

The heart wrenching scream echoed off of the walls of the rink, sending every set of eyes in the place turning toward its origin. Being held back at the entrance to the ice, by two policemen, was a blonde teenage boy. Tears cascaded down his face as he tried to force his way past the officers to get to the body.

The kid broke James' heart. Skating over to the teen, he motioned for the officers to let him go, to which they complied. The boy took off toward the body, but stopped half way, swaying on his feet. James reacted quickly and got to him just before his legs gave out. A sob ripped it's way out of the blonde's throat as he coward into James' side, hiding his face in his shoulder. Everyone watched the teen lose control in the detective's arms, as the older man held him, trying to soothe the poor soul. Dragging him over to the stands, James kept a tight hold of him as they sat down together, Logan following behind them. After a few minutes, the sobs turned into whimpers, and the boy pulled away from James.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." James placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. Glaring around the room, he signaled for everyone to get back to work before turning back to the blonde. "What's your name?"

"K-Kendall."

"I'm Detective Diamond. And this is Detective Mitchell." James said as he gestured to his friend. "Do you know who this boy is?"

"D-Dak... His n-name is Dak Z-Zevon."

James looked up to Logan, and the shorter of the two nodded, heading off to find Kelly so they could confirm the boy's identity. Turning back to Kendall, he finally got a good look at him. Besides the blonde hair that James noticed automatically, Kendall had these soft green eyes that seemed too wise for his age. His pink, full bottom lip's pierced with a silver hoop on the left side, and he played with it with his tongue while trying to calm down. And what seemed to be the natural white, creamy color of his skin was now blotchy red due to his crying and the coldness of the rink. For a split second, James thought he was rather attractive.

"W-We were supposed t-to meet up this morning to p-practice... He's my... m-my b-best friend."

Kendall's choked whisper brought James back to the present. The blonde let out a shuddery breath, and looked like he was going to fall back into James' embrace, but he just swayed in his seat instead. James placed an arm around the younger boy's body, afraid that he was about to pass out or something.

"I'm sorry, Kendall."

"Wh-what happened to h-him?" Kendall asked, blinking up at James through his long, damp eyelashes.

"We're not sure yet, but trust me, we will find whoever did this to him, and they will pay."

Kendall nodded and bowed his head, and James could clearly see the boy's salty tears dripping onto his pants, leaving little black splotches in their wake. He tried consoling Kendall by rubbing soothing circles on his arm. James wanted to say the right thing, the right words, that would fix everything, but the only thing that would help Kendall right now would be his best friend not being dead. James can't imagine the pain he is going through. If he was in the teen's position, and it was Logan who was dead, James new he would probably end his life right then, right there.

"Hey, James." James looked up to find Logan, Camille, and Kelly skating to a stop in front of them, and then watched them as they stepped off the ice. "Camille was able to recover what was written on the paper."

"What does it say?"

"Blondie's next?" Camille answered with a confused tone, not really knowing what the message meant.

"Does anyone have an idea of what's that supposed to mean?"

"Is he okay?" Kelly asked, pointing at Kendall.

James looked back at the teen and found that his head was back up. His bloodshot eyes bulged out of his head and his face was as white as a sheet. Kendall's lips were parted as he tried to pull and push air from his lungs, and James was again worried that he was going to faint.

"Wh-what did it say?" the teen asked, his voice shaky.

"Blondie is next." Camille repeated, still looking confused as she held the paper up for the boy to see. "Do you know what it means?"

"That's wh-what Dak calls-called-me. My nickname is B-Blondie."

All four pairs of eyes shifted over to Kendall. There was a chorus of 'shit's echoed around the group as they looked down at the killer's next target.

A/N: There is so much information and detail that I wanted to put into the first chapter, but it just didn't work out the way I wanted it to...

Review and let me know what you think and let me know whether or not I should even continue this!