"Well what did you expect?"
McGee banged his head against the desk. "It's not my fault."
"What's up Probie?" DiNozzo asked as he walked in, seeing his two teammates stood behind his desk. Dropping his bag at his own, he walked over to see what the fuss was about.
Ziva shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "He wanted to see if it was true about the file that couldn't be hacked- an impossible file. The techies where wondering if anyone could break through. There was a bullet about it before."
"Bulletin." McGee corrected, head flat against the desk.
"A bullet in what?"
DiNozzo shook his head. "So you had a go?"
"Well, yeah. But the thing is, it bounced me off half of Europe before frying my hard drive. Its dead! There was smoke coming out!"
"I thought it smelt a bit funny, was wondering if Gibbs had taken up smoking."
"And why would it be me, DiNozzo?" The man said appearing behind him to look at the group.
"Just thinking out loud Boss."
"Well don't. Grab your gear- we've got a case." He called, making his way over to the elevator. In a hurry, the three rushed over with their bags in hand. The silver haired man pushed the button for the garage, not looking at his team.
"Sort out your computer."
DiNozzo snapped the camera wildly, getting a few good ones of the crew in suprise. He chuckled as he took one of Ziva's butt as she leant to pick up the gun.
He felt the harsh rap of a slap on the back of the head, and flinched. "Sorry Boss."
The man walked away from him, to kneel beside the body of a dead marine and the two ME's. "What have you got for me Duck?"
The warehouse was quiet, a dull throb of noise from the nearby road barely discernible. The older man with gray hair looked up with a sigh.
"No ID as of yet, beside the faded dog tags. The man was shot, three times in the back, and once in his arm, almost as if he was trying to escape someone. Time of death is anytime between yesterday and Tuesday- the weather hasn't helped him either."
"Alright Duck, you take the body back."
"Of course Jethero." He replied with a smile, gesturing to two men with a bag and a trolley.
Gibbs turned back to his team as they scoured the floor, looking for anything that could help find out who had killed the man.
"What have you got?"
DiNozzo straightened up sharply. "Not much boss. Foot treads of all different sizes, ashes, a little bit of blood from what looks like an old fist fight, but nothing that stands out. Only thing left behind was the gun by the looks of it."
Ziva walked over from the open doorway that led out into the dull grey outside. "There is only traffic out there- nothing very helpful."
"Any tire treads?"
"Few partials, but nothing too recent. I will see what Abby can get from them-"
There was a screeching of metal, and a dull ripping noise. The team looked at each other.
"What the-" DiNozzo tried, only to be cut off by a dull thump.
Ziva and Gibbs looked up as one, watching the ceiling as dust began to fall.
"Is the body gone?" Gibbs barked, not looking away.
"Er, I think so, I mean, yeah." McGee stumbled, looking away for a second. "Why? Whats the-"
"Start backing up McGee, you too DiNozzo."
As quickly as possible, the group retreated, getting others out of the high ceiling-ed warehouse as the noises became louder. The sound of creaking metal joined the mash, and for a second there was silence.
Then the roof collapsed, tearing down half of the back wall and sending up a shower of dust. The people on scene stared, watching as the dust settled, quietly aware of how close many of them had been to being crushed.
Ducky walked over to them. "Jethero! Is every one okay? What happ-"
There was a muttered curse and a cough from the rubble in front of them, scaring half of the group. Something shifted, pushing off a section of rubble before a figure stood up. He tried to brush himself off, before noticing that he was covered in a fine layer of dust all over, and shrugged absently.
With a sneeze, the figure turned, freezing at the sight of so many people before flashing them a smile, bright white amidst the grey.
"Any chance of getting a lift?"
Alex stepped out of the rubble with a grimace when no one answered. His leg was bleeding sluggishly from the cut from when he had been fighting the gang hours ago, and showed little signs of stopping.
He sighed and looked around, taking in the road across the expanse of grass, as well as the group of people standing in front of him. The majority were standing there, gawking openly at the sight of him.
A sliver haired man stepped forward to meet him, easily taking in the rugged appearance and ripped clothes.
"Are you okay kid?"
Alex shrugged, stretching, pulling in his american accent that he'd become so accustomed to over the weeks he had been there. "I've been better."
The man offered him a small smile, before gesturing to one of the cars sitting behind the yellow tape that many police agencies use.
"Why don't you grab a seat in the car over there, and we'll get some one to drive you home when we've asked you a few questions."
Alex cocked his head, following the man, aware of the others who were not far from him.
"You sure?" He gestured vaguely at himself. "I'm a bit dusty."
The man laughed and shrugged. "It's not my car."
Alex sighed and stretched as they reached the black sleek car, sitting out of place among the horde of official vehicles.
"Typical." He muttered to himself. Everyone in authority.
"Do you want to call anyone?" The man asked, pulling out his phone as he spoke.
Alex nodded as he was passed the moblie. With a huff, he punched in the long number he had committed to memory long ago. There was only one ring before the head of the CIA picked up.
"Ah, Alex! I was wondering when I'd hear from you. I heard the mission was a success."
"Well, yes, but that's not quite my problem."
"Why, what's the matter? On that line of thought, where are you?"
"I have no idea."
"All I know is that I'm currently with NCIS at a crime scene at an old warehouse."
"NCIS? Why are you with them?"
"That makes no sense."
"Of course not. Well anyway, I was ringing you to say that Cumberbach is alive. He wasn't at the warehouse when it exploded."
"Damn. Do you know where he is?"
"Not right now. He's still in America though."
"How'd you know?"
"He's the reason I was at the warehouse in the first place."
"I'll see what I can sort out. We may still need you though."
"I'm not going anywhere. What about these guys?"
"I don't know- your the agent. If you get into any trouble, give me a ring. Otherwise, stick with them. You may find something your missing."
"The only thing I'm missing is common sense. Not going to find that anytime soon."
Joe laughed down the other end of the phone. Alex hung up, muttering under his breath before turning back to see the silver haired man talking to an Israeli woman with dark hair. The two looked up at him, before the woman moved away silently.
Alex was struck with the knowledge that she was- or had been- a spy. Mossad most likely. He shuddered, remembering the time he had spent with Mossad- casually being tortured when he hadn't even been there more than a week, under the pretense that he was a mole. Not nearly enough time to infiltrate a secret service if you asked him.
The man smiled as Alex handed back his phone. "Is it okay if you come back with us? I know your parents are going to be worried, but we need to take your statement."
Alex shrugged. "Fine by me."
The man offered his hand out to him. "Gibbs."
"Nice to meet you. Name's Alex. Alex Rider."
(A/N) Hey guy's! What do you think?