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10

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 10 (12/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Annabeth sighed. "It was Michael's father, wasn't it?"

Gibbs's masseter muscles flexed. "Impersonating a federal agent is a criminal offense."

Well, she already knew the answer to her question anyway. "I know that."

"Is that all you've got to say, Chase?"

"I won't apologize if that's what you're searching for."

Gibbs jabbed a finger at her. "You lied to me! In my house!"

"Did you expect me not to? What did you want from me?"

"The truth. Honesty. Trust."

"I couldn't take that risk."

"You took that risk the moment you came into my investigation, meddling with my team."

Was this guy for real? "I had more than myself to worry about, Agent Gibbs. I had my mission, my friends, and Michael."

"Your mission? Something other than Kahale?"

"He called me because something was wrong. 'Help them,' he told me. That was my mission. Find out who needed protection and from what."

"His family," Gibbs concluded, "And you entrusted me with them, what he told you to protect."

"Justice still needs to be carried out, and by leaving it to you, I know it will be dealt with professionally and impersonally."

Gibbs took a second. "You trust me in that."

Annabeth nodded. "Yes."

Gibbs peered at her. "How'd you know?"

"About Mr. Kahale? He would have told me the truth."

"That simple, huh?"

"He knew who we were, there was little excuse. And when I figured out his family was what Michael was talking about, I knew they had to be involved."

"He's family."

Annabeth looked up in surprise.

"Greek gods have a pretty messy family tree," Gibbs said. "You were his family. The one on his god side."

Annabeth breathed out an airy laugh. He was a smart one. "He was my brother. We shared the same mother."

"Athena."

Annabeth considered him. It wasn't a question. He knew. Gibbs was definitely not to be underestimated.

"Did some research on the myths. It's part of the job when a case revolves around it, especially when they turn out to be real."

Well, that wasn't vague at all.

He was probably making assumptions again. Annabeth narrowed her eyes. Or was there something more?

"I couldn't turn my back on him. I know you understand that."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"We both know that's not true." Annabeth pointed to herself. "Child of Athena, remember. If there's one thing we're good at, it's analysis. This is your team, but it's also your family. I've been to your house- your living space says a lot- and I did my own research, Gibbs. On you. Family isn't just important to you; everything you do has your family at its core. Your rules probably don't have anything on family. Family is why you do what you do, so there's no need for rules about them. It's your drive. Your center."

Gibbs said nothing. Annabeth huffed. 'That's right. If you get to use your vague assumptions, I can one-up with deduction.'

"You do what you have to for family," Gibbs said. "You and Michael were close?"

Annabeth noted the softness that permeated his voice. "Not in particular."

"He held your contact close to him. He told you that he was heading to Peru."

"You're assuming that-"

"It's part of the fake name you created. Hell yeah, I can assume! No such thing as coincidence. You knew the ship's next dock. He must have told you; he trusted you. Out of everyone, he chose you to help. There is obviously some sort of network for you. The evidence has been working with me for two days. Maybe that's how you met, maybe not, but he has to have more connections. He decided to bring you into this, not someone older."

"I am older!"

Gibbs's eyes flashed, questioning.

"The world isn't the safest. Demigods attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. There is a safe haven, and we either make our way there or get killed off."

She turned to look at the rest of the two teams staring wide-eyed at them. She met Percy's green eyes and held it for a moment, before turning back to Gibbs.

"Look. I had a job to do, a mission to finish, and family to take care of."

"That you did."

"We understand each other, then?"

"Yeah, guess we're good." Gibbs smirked. "Agent."

Annabeth almost sighed with relief.

"And if anything happens." Annabeth straightened. This was Gibbs. Of course, he wasn't done. "If you hear anything…"

"We'll handle it. But," Annabeth added as Gibbs's entire body stiffened, "I'll keep in touch."

She saw a vein on his temple twitch in annoyance, but he stayed silent— stubborn Navy cop.

"So," Grover fidgeted under everyone's stare. "What now?"

"It's time for you to go home," Gibbs said firmly.

Annabeth saw Ziva playing around with one of her other celestial bronze knives. Ziva tried grabbing the blade, but it continued to faze through her. She shook her head and extended it to Percy. "Thank you for lending us these."

Percy looked at them. "Keep them. You never know when you might need them again."

Annabeth smiled at him. "Even though those aren't for his to give, Seaweed Brain is right. You should have them. You were able to see through the mist and should have something that actually works against monsters."

Gibbs tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"I guess this is where we part ways," Annabeth said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the adrenaline's and ambrosia's effects wearing off.

"Hey," Gibbs said. "This will be the last time I catch you impersonating federal officers." Annabeth smirked. Old people are so demanding. "And try not to land in any more newspapers, especially you, Jackson."

This time, Annabeth let out a laugh.

Percy squawked. "What! Just because- those times- it wasn't my fault!"

Annabeth suddenly remembered something.

"Gibbs! One more thing. Michael's body…"

Gibbs nodded in understanding. "That strawberry farm any valid?"

"You won't be able to enter." Although, Annabeth was sure he probably assumed that anyway. Probably thought he wouldn't be able to find it, either.

Gibbs grinned.

"I'll call you."

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse watched the greyed Jarhead, and his three teammates walk away. Faithful. Loyal. Proud. That man had her respect from the beginning. He was a man trained for more than combat. It took courage to break the rules, independence to do so with solid reasoning, and leadership to have his teammates follow not because of fear but because of trust. Leroy Jethro Gibbs is a great Agent, a great Marine, a great man.

Clarisse was proud to know and say she had worked and fought alongside Agent Gibbs. Although she had to be purely honest.

"I will never step foot in an office again!"

-Αντώνης-

"Are you really going to keep this quiet, Boss?" Tony clicked his seat belt in. "I mean, this is pretty big."

Gibbs shrugged. That was a yes, then.

"I don't want any of you to lie for me," Gibbs told them. "Your reports are your own. It's your own decision."

"Well, I don't think putting down that I fought against snake ladies and such will go down very good with Vance. Not to mention how a supposed NCIS Agent is part donkey."

"Goat."

Tony snapped his head to McGee. "What?"

"He's a satyr," McGee said. "He's part goat, not donkey."

Tony was prepared to make a snide remark but held back when he took a proper look at his younger partner.

"You look a bit pale there, Tim. You alright?"

Tony's concern grew when McGee looked at him with a terrifyingly vacant expression. "He was part goat, Tony." He waved his hand in front of his chest. "Half human. Half goat."

Oh, boy. "Yeah, I get that. You should drink some water. Lie down."

Ziva gave him a threatening look. "Not on me. It is hot, and we are covered in dirt. Wait till we get back, McGee."

"He might not make it," Tony warned.

"He is perfectly capable of-"

"Do you think there are elves?"

Ziva spluttered to a stop, looking incredulous in McGee's direction.

"You know. Like, do they have other magical weapons? Gems and potions and..."

Ziva felt his face. "Oh, McGee, you are burning up. No! Don't fall asleep! McGee!"

"We gotta get back to base, Boss."

Gibbs nodded, and Tony groaned at his words.

"Back to work."

-Γκρόβερ-

Grover frowned. "Is telling him our address a good idea?"

"He already had it," Percy pointed out. It was a good point, too. It was already in their system.

"Can't we use the mist and the laptop to make them forget about us? Chiron is not going to like-"

"It will be fine, Grover," Annabeth said, halfway leaning on Percy. "I trust Gibbs."

Gibbs… That man was something else.

Grover had felt so anxious! He didn't think he could have been in Annabeth's position. Gibbs had such control over his stare. Even though he wasn't the one under it, Grover had felt the cold steel gaze he pinned Annabeth with.

All that disappeared when he felt a weight across his shoulders. Percy had wrapped his arms around Grover and Annabeth. Squishing them together. Clarisse grumbled as Annabeth held an arm out to her, but let herself be pulled in any way.

And it felt right. The four of them waddling awkwardly away. Grover felt Percy's happiness practically envelope their link.

"I'm totally gone," Annabeth said with a laugh. "I hope whoever's in the backseat doesn't mind me laying on them."

They almost fell as Percy jostled in the middle. "I don't mind!"

Grover laughed. Being with friends always felt right.

"Let's go home."

-Λεον-

The door swished open. "You called, Leon?"

Leon looked up from. 'Leon.' The Long Island team was really gone, then.

"Some disgruntled scholars are calling us cheats, Gibbs. Accusing NCIS of hiding intricate historical artifacts vital to their field."

"'Vital,'" Gibbs chuckled. "I didn't realize dealing with annoyed university professors was in the Director's job description."

"It's not. I was just made aware of the situation and went to ask Ms. Scuito about it. Now, accuse me of being curious if the knife they were all after was gone. Part of another investigation. One that I am unaware of. I go visit the good doctor downstairs, and Kahale's body has already left the building."

"Things move fast around here, Leon."

Leon felt his teeth grind together. "The chair is big, not slow."

"We solved the case, Leon."

"You did, collaborating with Long Island. Speaking of which, where are they?"

Gibbs handed him the case file. "Kahale had a run-in with the Reynosa Cartel. They went back up to follow leads on their end."

Huh, so the Reynosa Cartel is involved.

"What about on our end?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Their case. It's all in the report."

Gibbs gave another team his evidence? His body? His case?

Leon felt a bit bad for those academics. They would never see the knife nor Scuito's findings.

"So, they're fighting Reynosa alone? I don't remember giving that directive. Seems inefficient."

Gibbs raised his brow. "You are Director, Leon. You can assign tasks as you like."

Leon made a face. "Not that team. Can you believe I didn't even know there was a small NCIS department in Long Island? Apparently, something in the works by SECNAV. He's all secretive about it."

Gibbs shrugged. "It's the top dogs, Leon. They're always secretive."

Leon glared at him. Something about the way Gibbs spoke made a small part of Leon nag at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"We should start digging into the Reynosas. It's bad enough that they've infested our neighbor's lawn. We don't want the same in our own backyard. I want this wrapped up, Gibbs, and I expect you to lead me through every step."

"Of course."

The nag got stronger.

"I trust you put as much detail in the report about what happened."

"Of course."

Leon's grip on the file tightened. He felt like he was being played, which means he probably was. He had read enough of Gibbs's and his team's reports to recognize garbage. He was sure that's what he would find. He hadn't even opened the thing, but he could already smell the stench. Leon should take Gibbs's badge, break up his team, file a report. Do all the things he swore he would do when he took the chair. But he couldn't. Not yet. With SECNAV also waving his secrets around, Leon had to be patient about this. Had to be smart.

"And you found out about all the Greek stuff?"

"It was a part of his life. He and his family lived like these stories existed. Had to fight them to survive." He carried a bit of a faraway look on his face. "We finished it for him."

Gibbs missed the skeptical look Leon threw his way "What were you fighting?"

Gibbs snapped back to reality. Replacing the lost-in-thoughts look with a mischievous one. "Hellhounds, harpies, a hydra." Gibbs grinned. "I took out a Cyclops!"

Leon ground his molars, wanting to punch that smug look off his face. Trying to be Mr. Funny, huh? 'It doesn't suit you, Gibbs.'

"Really?" Leon said. "And what happened to all of them?"

Gibbs mimed an explosion with his hands.

"Poof!"

-Περσεύς-

Michael's shroud was a silken sheet designed as the flag of the United States of America. The cords tying the body were embroidered with grey owl tassels. It was beautiful and patriotic, but it had turned to ash long ago. The fire burned low, surviving on the remaining cinders. Most of the campers had left. Only a few stragglers remained.

Clarisse stood by the forest, staring moodily at the smoke rising into the clouds.

Grover sat far from the fire, whispering with Juniper.

Annabeth sat nearest. Percy couldn't figure out the face she was wearing. Troubled, perhaps? The bonfire was a neutral grey. Lost in thought then.

He sidled up next to her. "It's over. Mission complete."

"I know. It's just…"

He gave her a smile, hoping it wasn't as awkward as it felt. "You are overthinking about what's going to happen next. I know you. You're going through every detail of what happened."

"It's just- It's so odd to see a network between mortals and monsters. I can't shake the feeling like I'm missing something."

He nudged her side. "You're overthinking it."

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him and leaned over. "I'm compensating for your lack of thinking."

"Hey!" Percy pushed her but put no force behind it. He was glad she wasn't frowning anymore. "Seriously, though, I'm sure you've thought about it enough. If anything does happen, it's nothing we can't deal with, and we'll get through it together. I promise, Wise Girl."

Her eyes sparkled from the fire's light. "Thanks, Seaweed Brain."

Like magic, the fire burned brighter, turning a colourful shade of pink.

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Actium Scarpool

ONLY COMPLETED STORIES ARE UPLOADED TO TUMBLR

Completed Stories

Godly Marine: Killed: Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. You can thank cowgrl94 for introducing me to NCIS. [Percy Jackson and the Olympians and NCIS] -Illustrator- Lane2London -Awards- The Constellation Awards 2020 - Second Place under Pisces Column

Ongoing Stories

Blood of Olympus: This is my version of the Blood of Olympus, which is the 5th book of the Heroes of Olympus; if you haven't read the House of Hades I would suggest don't read because of the spoilers. [Percy Jackson and the Olympians]

The Fates' Trusted: [A rewrite of Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Darkness with a tad of Percy Jackson(Deleted on 29/8/16).] Percy, Annabeth, and Grover are heading to The Council of Clovin Elders. However, the Fates seem to have other plans. Witness the two demigods and satyr as they encounter this new world. A world steeped in natural magic and elemental terror. They will encounter characters from The Chronicles of Ancient Darkness: Wolf Brother and journey across the lands to defeat the Demon Bear. Set after The Last Olympian and in the beginning of Wolf Brother. [Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Chronicles of Ancient Darkness]

Fissure: Book One: Casting Chaos: "I am your past. Present. And Future." Something about the way the villain's freckles peeked out of his mask made Izuku's spine crawl. "You aspire to be the hero who always smiles, bringing hope to others. The next All Might." Izuku's heart stopped. He stared, consumed in those deep green eyes. "But know when our name is heard, the only one smiling is you. Deku." [僕のヒーローアカデミア/ My Hero Academia]

Upcoming Stories

How It All Started: First Chapter - TBA Ever wonder how the Paw Patrol got together? What caused Ryder and six pups to band together and create the best team that Adventure bay could ever have? Follow each individual Paw Patrol member as they have their own adventures before they were members. Through pain and love, happiness and sorrow, darkness and light, Ryder and the pups find their way to each other. Rated M for a reason. [Paw Patrol]

Star Flight: First Chapter- In Progress!(As of June 6, 2019) I ran into the bushes. I heard the yells of the freed prisoners trying to escape and the loud orders that the Killik soldiers were seething from their mouths. It wasn’t long until I heard the blasters going off. A red bolt barely missed my shoulder and fried a small green sapling in front of me. My heart dangerously skipped a couple beats. I shoved myself in a small cave made by the roots of a tree. Feeling into my pocket, I calmed my breathing. Whatever happened, I must not let them have the lightsaber. [Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Star Wars.]

[scxrletisms-blog]

Know that you are worthy, I'll take your bad days with your good, walk through the storm I would I do it all because I love you. *

[ for @goddamndeadpool, because feels, loads of them ]

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Your icon is so cute!!

thanks! it was made by my friend sillybro

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Day 31: Full moon Inspired by what I sorta was for Halloween, hope everyone enjoyed

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Name: Macy Age: 18 Meaning behind URL: An old roleplaying name I used back in my younger years. Hobbies/interests: Drawing and gaming! Why I follow you: Cause you are awesome Random fact: I have an odd obsession for head hair. Question: How are you?

aaaay macy 

ohhh head hair is nice eyes my favorite are eyebrows though so variable.. very bootiful. thick bara eyebrows.. okay whatever sorry

i aaam... fine??? currently i'm having a headache because i've been staring at he screen for too fucking long and i should go to sleep its half past 2am...,,,

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7

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 7 (9/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Gibbs's command to 'bring them all' was still ringing in Tony's head as he finished dropping off the Kahale kids in the conference room. Their father was waiting for questioning.

The elevator dinged, signaling Ziva's and Gibbs's arrival. They lead Patricia Kahale in, Ziva taking point and escorting her to interrogation.

Tony walked next to Gibbs to report. "One in interrogation, the rest in the conference room."

Gibbs nodded and glanced around the bullpen. "Where are they?"

The long Island Agents. "Uh, don't know, Boss. They weren't here when we came back."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow but stayed silent.

"So, how do you want to do this, Boss?"

"Let's start with the father."

Tony snatched the case file as they passed his desk. Then, not because he had an urge to share his current opinion, Tony said, "And the evil step-mother?"

"Let her stew."

"Right, Boss. How about the kids?"

"Have McGee bring them down. He's in charge of any incoming calls."

"Right." Tony started for the center stairs.

"Hey!" Gibbs called out. "You're with me. Write to him or something."

Tony frowned as he followed Gibbs. Although interrogation was way more fun than dealing with McProbie and the kids, Tony was uncomfortable that Gibbs wanted him to send a postcard through the building.

"Write to him?"

"Through your phone," Gibbs said.

"Oh! Er, you mean send a text."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. Tony cringed. "I'm writing to him, Boss."

Gibbs continued on, leading them to the interrogation wing and pushed open a door even though he was never told in which room the man was being held in. Tony shuddered. The Gind. What power it beholds.

"Hey, what's going on?" Johnathan Kahale questioned as they entered. "You said this was about my son? What's going on with the investigation?"

"Mr. Kahale," Tony said, "This is Special Agent Gibbs."

"Hi," Kahale said and, after a brief hesitation, held his hand out. Gibbs shook in greeting.

"So, you are also on Michael's case? I had only met two other agents before being picked up by Agent David and Agent DiNozzo here. I didn't realize how big your teams are."

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I'm getting that a lot recently."

"Oh," Kahale said, unsurely. Tony understood. He would have said the same thing to that.

"So, how long is this going to take? With the kids here, I should really speak to my wife."

"Your wife is also here, Mr. Kahale," Tony said.

"Really? Can I please see her?"

"No," Gibbs said.

"What? Why not?"

"You are both suspects," Gibbs said.

"Excuse me?! I don't know how you came to that conclusion, Agent Gibbs, but I assure you that neither of us had anything to do with my son's death."

"Then I'm sure you can account for your whereabouts during that time," Tony said.

"I was home."

"Asleep?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"Your wife?"

"Right beside me."

"Did you know about Michael's presence in the area?" Tony asked.

"It's like I told the other agents. No."

"And your wife?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

Gibbs reached into the case file and placed a sheet down.

"Explain," Gibbs said.

"I don't understand," Kahale said. "Are these my phone records?"

"Yeah," Tony said, "There were three calls during the night. One of which you made. You called Michael."

"How do you know it was Michael? It could've been anyone."

"Like who?" Tony asked. "Who would you call at one in the morning that used a number that magically disappeared after use?"

There were a couple of 'um's and 'well's as Kahale fished for an answer. And Gibbs was able to fill in Kahale's awkward moment. "Adrian Rodriguez."

Johnathan Kahale blinked. "Who?"

"Don't know him?" Tony said, hoping to get any sort of recognition, although it was apparent the name was meaningless to the man. "First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez. He was assigned to the same ship as your son. He used the same technique Michael used. Make a call. Dump the phone. You have quite the phone history. Remarkably, so do the First Lieutenant's parents. In fact, most of the calls you received from out of service numbers align perfectly with the First Lieutenant's folks. Gap lengths and all. Same day. Same hour. Same location."

Kahale sighed heavily. "It was Michael."

"Why'd you call him?" Gibbs asked.

"Wanted to set up a place to meet?" Tony suggested. "A place to kill him?"

"No! Never!"

"So why lie about contacting him?" Tony asked. "Was it your wife? She doesn't like him. That much is obvious. So what? Keep it hidden? Keep the son you had with another woman a little secret?"

"Michael wasn't some dirty secret!"

"He went missing," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony said, adding some interpretation to that topic. "Why did he run away?"

Kahale shifted in his seat. "He didn't run away," he said. But his posture displayed the doubt he had. Interesting. If he had communicated with his son, shouldn't he have known the answer to that?

Gibbs opened the file again and placed down pictures of Michael's body in autopsy. He also placed down Ducky's official report. "He had tissue and muscle scars old enough to have been done before he disappeared," Gibbs said.

Kahale's eyes flashed up at Gibbs. "You imply that he had ever been beaten in my home, Agent Gibbs?"

"He was different," Tony said, hoping to diffuse the situation and redirect some of the clear revulsion from Kahale onto himself. "No pictures. No social life. Behavioral problems. No steady school. Mother doesn't exist. Who was she? Just some random chick?"

"She wasn't random. And she wasn't just some chick. She was intelligent. Exquisite. Knowledgeable about every subject. Well-travelled. Skilled beyond measure. She knew me before I even laid eyes on her. She's a goddess. And I fell for her, even knowing the consequences."

Wow. Tony might be jealous if his partner lit up like that about a previous flame that had no records. Not to mention, bringing a kid into the picture.

"I loved his mother. I still do. No matter how much she may now despise me. And I love Michael. I could never blame him for any of the things he brought with him. How could I blame him?"

'Blame him?'

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Why'd he leave?" Tony said.

Kahale let out a breath. "He wanted to find his mother's relatives."

"Is she dead?" Tony asked.

Kahale shrugged. How helpful.

"You didn't know where they were?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"So, what," Tony said, wrapping his head around this idea. "You just let a ten-year-old kid travel the country? Unsupervised? Alone? With not a clue where to go?"

"It wasn't planned," Kahale said, "He didn't say anything; he just left."

"But," Tony dragged the vowel out. "You were okay with his disappearance?"

The silence was the confirmation.

This was crazy! Who would do that? No, scratch that. Tony knew the answer to that. But these people just didn't fit that profile. This guy had to be lying. He was just following the given story, hoping that it would pan out.

"Well," Tony said, "that would explain why a couple of lawyers sent a missing person file knowing nothing would happen."

"Get someone to review his statements," Gibbs said, packing up the case file. "You're not charged with murder yet, but you will be charged with a list of other crimes."

Tony flung the door out dramatically. "Yeah, like child neglect."

Gibbs walked out, and Tony started to close the door, slowing down so it wouldn't close too fast. He waited for Kahale to plea. To bargain. To let loose.

But he didn't. And Tony had to eventually close the door. The click as empty as the amount of nothing they had gotten from that interrogation.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva sat on the corner of the table as Gibbs took up his spot on the chair.

Patricia Kahale sat on the other chair, hands folded and eyes pointed straight at the one-way viewing glass. She had remained silent on the car ride over. Interestingly enough, she had not requested a lawyer even though promising she would when last questioned.

Gibbs placed down the profiles of the two children, Jeremy Swallar and Natasha Hibashira.

"Last time you were here," Gibbs started, "You told me you did not recognize them."

Gibbs waited for a reaction. Mrs. Kahale did not so much as avert her gaze.

"Mrs. Kahale?" Ziva asked. 'If this is how it's going to be, we might as well just cut-'

"Who's on the other side?"

Ziva blinked, forced out of her thoughts.

"Another agent," Gibbs said.

"One of yours?"

"Yes."

"No one else?"

"No, just my guy."

"Good."

Ziva remembered how Mrs. Kahale reacted to Agent La Rue and seemed to dislike Agent Jackson. Did she know something they did not?

Gibbs tapped on the pictures. "You said you didn't know them."

Mrs. Kahale glanced at them. "I did."

"You lied."

"A mistake, surely."

"You were seen talking to them at a bar," Ziva said.

"What did you say to them?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't say anything to them," Kahale stated. "Besides, aren't they a little young to be at a bar unaccompanied?"

"Who said they were unaccompanied?" Ziva asked.

"Was that not what you implied? Why would I talk to them, if they had their parents with them?"

Ziva had to hand it to Kahale. She could dance. Ziva gave her a little smile. If only just.

"They were looking for a ride," Ziva said, "We believe you suggested them to go to Tarsibo. He is your client, after all."

"I did not speak to them."

"You don't want to talk about them. Fine," Gibbs said, "How about we talk about your stepson. You haven't seen him for years?"

"No."

"You haven't spoken to him?"

"No."

"Your husband was," Gibbs said.

"N-" Mrs. Kahale stopped and threw them a questioning look. "If he was, I have no knowledge of that."

Ziva frowned. "So, you did not know that your husband was in regular contact with Michael?"

"No."

"Did you know your husband called him right before he died?" Ziva asked.

"No."

"You told me you didn't know he joined the Marines. Did you not know what happened to him? That he was even alive? Did you not care? Your husband never told you anything, and you never asked?"

"No," Mrs. Kahale said.

Ziva leaned back. One word for all of her questions. She was used to it, but Gibbs at least cared.

"I suppose it was his way of respecting my desire to not be a part of it," Mrs. Kahale said. She scoffed. "His way of shielding me from that side of his life."

"His ex-wife," Gibbs clarified.

"She was never his wife," Mrs. Kahale said.

Gibbs shrugged. "Your husband had a kid with her. He speaks very highly of her. I would understand if you were resentful."

Mrs. Kahale glared at him. "I don't hate her, Agents," she said, "But if she's so smart, why does she make so many rash decisions? I'll tell you why. Selfishness. Pride. She doesn't have to deal with the consequences of her actions. Someone else always deals with them."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Yes. Definitely resentful.

"Sounds like you know her," Gibbs said.

"No. But I've heard plenty of stories."

"What kind of stories?" Ziva asked.

"Dramas."

Gibbs hummed. "You would describe them as tragedies?"

Mrs. Kahale lifted her chin. "I would."

"Like the epic stories of the Greek myths," Gibbs said.

Mrs. Kahale said nothing.

"Your husband said she was a goddess. So, was he a part of some cult?"

Mrs. Kahale kept silent.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. The woman obviously did not like whatever it was her husband and this mystery woman were a part of. Why keep silent?

"You can tell us what's going on," Ziva said, "We will help you. Why don't you say anything? Are you being threatened? Your children are here and safe."

Mrs. Kahale swallowed. "It's nothing like that."

Oh, but it was. There was a response at the indication of being threatened and her kids, just as clear as to when Gibbs mentioned Greek myths.

"The kids," Gibbs said, tapping the pictures. "How do they fit in this?"

The woman looked down and took a breath, collecting herself. Ziva sat back. 'Just when we were making progress.' Were they looking at this wrong? Were the kids simply an unrelated event?

Patricia gave an annoyed huff. "As I already told you-"

The files flew from the desk. Gibbs was frustrated. Ziva did not envy this woman. He slammed his hands on the table, glaring down at her. "Then tell me something new. And make it the truth."

No. Ziva did not envy this woman at all.

The door clicked open.

Gibbs turned his death glare at McGee.

"Um, B-Boss," he stammered, "you really need to know this."

Ziva quickly followed after Gibbs. Although apparently suicidal, McGee was still a dear friend, and Ziva wouldn't like to see Gibbs murder him.

Gibbs growled. "What."

McGee nervously wet his lips.

"Well, Ducky has already released his findings. All these reporters who were following the case got them and reported the info to their respective medias. Reshaun Sachs, the bartender; you knew that, of course- well know, you haven't forgotten. Well, he decided to find out what was going on since his business is obviously involved and-"

Oh no. McGee was rambling. And Gibbs's face was darkening with each word. Would her gun be helpful? Or perhaps her knife would be more practical. She decided on simply clearing her throat. Loudly. McGee stuttered to a stop. Ziva gave him a pointed look.

Ziva was relieved when she saw his face alight with understanding.

"Patricia Kahale was at The Drowsy Owl during the time of death. She could not have killed Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

-Αντώνης-

Tony did not like this.

He watched as Gibbs and Ziva entered the interrogation room.

"You are free to go, Mr. Kahale," Ziva said.

"Thank you. If I can just see my wife, then we can-"

"Your wife isn't cleared," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"She admitted to killing your son."

"What?! No! She couldn't have."

"How do you know?" Ziva said, clicking the door shut behind her.

"She was at home."

"Weren't you home as well?"

"Yes, but- she just couldn't have done it."

"We know," Gibbs said, taking a seat. "Although not in your house, she is witnessed being at a bar during the time of the murder."

"Then you know she didn't do it. That she's innocent."

"Mr. Kahale, aren't you curious as to why she would be at a bar so late at night?" Ziva asked. "Not telling you and lying that she was?"

"Maybe she was meeting with her friends. I trust my wife."

"Have any idea as to whom these friends might be?" Gibbs said.

"No, I did not see them."

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. As I said. I did not see them."

"But you spoke with them. You received a call before and after you spoke with Michael. A blocked number."

"You had to be awake to answer your phone. You had to have known your wife was not lying asleep next to you. Why did you lie?"

"No, I-"

"Did you follow her?" Ziva said.

"Were you at your house?" Gibbs asked.

"Ye-"

"We have your kids here," Ziva said, "We can ask them."

"How about you ask them?" Gibbs said.

"Stop, please-"

"Maybe," Gibbs said, "you can tell them why you killed their brother."

"THEY HAD HER!" Mr. Kahale screamed. "They had Patty! And they were going to kill her! Unless…unless…"

"Unless you killed Michael," Ziva finished for him.

A gasp broke Tony's attention away from the interrogation room to the reason he was placed behind the glass. Patricia Kahale stood next to him with her hands over her mouth, staring intently at the scene before her.

"I warned him. I called him. They gave me a car and a bullet. I needed to save my wife. I wanted him to help me. But he said there was no time and that there was no one in D.C. that could help."

He bowed his head. "They had my wife," he sobbed.

"No," Patricia whispered.

"She's not part of this life," Mr. Kahale said, "She shouldn't die from it. How could I have brought her into it?"

"No," Patricia said again, and the look in her eyes gave Tony a bad feeling. "John, no!"

Tony was a half-second too late. The woman ran out of the viewing room. Tony sped out after her to see her flinging the interrogation room open.

"How could you do it?!" She cried.

"Boss," Tony said, "I'm sorry she just…" He stopped as Gibbs held a hand up.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Kahale said, "But I couldn't let you be involved. I couldn't let them have you! And you came back home and didn't say anything, acting fine-"

"I was always involved! Michael's stench led them to our family even after he left. They threatened to take me, you, our kids. They told me what they did to people."

"You took up a deal," Gibbs said, "You help them get what they wanted, they leave you alone."

Mrs. Kahale nodded.

"How many are there?"

"Too many. It's a nest that has grown through some sort of pact between them all, and nothing is killing them."

"Why didn't you call the police?" Ziva asked her.

"That would just make things worse. Besides, Michael has obviously delivered a message to his people."

Gibbs froze for a second.

"Boss?" Tony asked. What was going on?

Gibbs snapped out of it. "You two," he told the Kahales, "Stay."

He stalked out of the room. Ziva and Tony followed, having to jog to keep up with him. Tony quickly texted McGee a heads up and to send the Kahale kids back upstairs. When Gibbs took the stairs, they knew whatever he figured out was bad.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "Search the Long Island team."

"But I already- okay," McGee easily complied, after looking at his boss, "Looking up Lima."

McGee shared his screen on the plasma as he loaded up the federal database.

"No," Gibbs said, "Not Lima. Don't go through any federal sites."

"Um, okay? Doing an internet search of Percy Jackson."

"News sites," Gibbs said.

"Boss there are hundreds of Percy Jacksons," McGee scrolling through articles, "We'll never find-"

"That one," Gibbs pointed.

It was an article from a few years ago. "Percy Jackson, Criminal or Victim?" The photo had an image of a young, disheveled Percy Jackson. And by his side…

McGee was freaking out. "Boss, I'm sorry. Their profiles should have-"

"Her," Gibbs pointed, "Age her up to now."

"Right. Aging."

McGee cut out the photo of the blonde and plugged it into the program. He had wisely shut his trap. As the image began to come into focus, Tony felt his heart stop. There was no denying it.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, quietly, "That's-"

BANG! Gibbs slammed his desk drawer closed and shoved his firearm in its place at his hip. There was utter silence in the bullpen as Gibbs strode off.

A few seconds later, Tony was the first to move. No matter how angry Gibbs was, Tony was still a cop. The rest of his teammates quickly followed.

They left the image of Annabeth Chase, otherwise known as NCIS Special Agent Anne Lima, on the screen behind them.

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[scarpool-gmk]

6 Part 2

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 6 Part 2 (8/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse had to hold in laughing as she saw Annabeth's eyes bulge in fascination as Gibbs used the iris scanner. With a hiss and a clunk!, the doors unlocked. He heaved the door open. "Welcome to MTAC, agents."

"Wow," Annabeth whispered as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Sweet secret base you guys got going on," Clarisse praised.

"Thanks!" McGee beamed like he was the one getting complimented. "It's decked out with some great technology sensors. It's completely separate in terms of technology, components, and connection from the rest of the building. Best monitors, state-of-the-art firewall, and the-"

"You guys do any movie nights in here?" Clarisse cut in.

"I-well no. I mean, uh, maybe? I wouldn't know anything about that," McGee spluttered.

Clarisse smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."

"McGee," Gibbs said, saving his agent, "Connect us up with the Staff Sergeant's C.O."

McGee hurried to do as he was told, working with a row of tech. Clarisse wouldn't want to get too close to any of those. Could probably get the entire monster population of the East Coast fixated on their position with those many wires. Annie, Prissy, and Goat boy wouldn't appreciate it. Would make one heck of a battle story, though.

Gibbs, Annabeth, and Clarisse stood in front of the huge screen.

"Morning, agents," the commander said when he flashed on the screen.

"Nice to meet you, Commander," Annabeth said.

"I would rather have not, Special Agent Lima, Gibbs. I take it you still haven't found out who took out my mechanic."

"No, Commander," Gibbs said, "And it seems your mechanic was into a case of his own."

"What do you mean?"

"We believe he was following leads that might uncover cartel movement in D.C.," Annabeth explained.

"Can you tell us anything about anything the Staff Sergeant was involved in?" Gibbs asked, "Any ops that he was assigned?"

"No, sir. This is the first I'm hearing of this. He was designated to go on tour; we were called in to head into NAMRU-6."

"Peru?" Gibbs questioned.

"It was going to be smooth sailing," the commander affirmed. "A secret mission…He was one hell of a mechanic, and even then…"

"Commander?" Annabeth pushed.

"He was too smart for his own good. He wasn't going to be a simple Staff Sergeant for long. In fact, I'm surprised he held out for this long. His excellent, strategic mind and fighting skill, especially in close combat, had placed him in the fast lane for promotion. He may have wanted to be a simple mechanic, and I know he declined several offers, but as good as he was, he gained the attention of those who could force him into positions."

Clarisse frowned. Sounds like Michael had been way too noticeable. She didn't even think that the Navy and Marine corps would inspect mechanics that thorough. How did they test his strategy making?

"Sounds like he was a special case," Clarisse said, "Did he get any flak from his crewmates because of it?"

"Not really, ma'am. He wasn't exactly a social person to begin with."

"He never got into any disputes with anyone?" Clarisse asked.

"Only one, but I've learned to keep them apart."

"Reason?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh, they just didn't see eye-to-eye."

Clarisse almost snorted. Translation: he had no clue. What kind of Officer in Charge was this guy?

"Who's the soldier?" Annabeth asked.

"First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez."

"He antagonize a lot of people?" Gibbs asked.

"No, sir. He's actually very well-liked. It was very strange that he turned confrontational with Kahale. Same with Sergeant Kahale."

"And you have no idea as to why this was." Gibbs didn't phrase it like a question. At least they were all on the same page.

The C.O. on the big screen shrugged. "Those are two of the sea's finest. Rodriguez is soon to become Major. They don't have so much as an excuse to hang around each other anyway."

This time, Clarisse didn't bother hiding a sound of disbelief.

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked at the same time as Annabeth said, "Tell us about him."

Clarisse stepped back so the two could glare at each other better.

"He's a skilled Marksman," Commander Oblivious replied, "knows a lot about on-the-spot- field medic stuff…sings pretty good, too." Clarisse shared a glance with Annabeth. That sounded familiar. Annabeth would probably say that it was a textbook definition. Nerd.

"But he has not left the ship," the commander continued, "he's been on board the entire time."

"Then call him over," Gibbs said, "Maybe we can help solve what his problem with Michael Kahale was."

"You can't think-"

"The more we know about our victim, the better we can predict his movements and motives," Annabeth consoled.

The commander ceded the point and nodded at some staff who promptly left the room, presumably to find the First Lieutenant. He turned his attention back to the NCIS agents.

Gibbs continued on questioning him. "Did Staff Sergeant Kahale ever mention an Annabeth Chase?"

The man on the screen frowned. "The name rings a bell; give me a sec." He shuffled some papers around. "Oh! Yes, as one of the emergency contacts. Right there under his father. Annabeth Chase, relation as his sister."

Annabeth showed nothing. Instead, asking, "What is the contact information?"

"A phone number with a New York area code."

"Read aloud the number, please."

The commander read out the numbers as Annabeth instructed. Clarisse immediately recognized it as the mainline to the Big House.

"It's a different number than the one he called," Annabeth said.

"McGee," Gibbs called, giving silent instructions.

"Already on it," McGee said, "Number is to a farm, Delphi Strawberry Service. Located in Long Island."

Clarisse mentally cursed and tried not to self-consciously fidget at the glare Gibbs gave Annabeth.

"But he never spoke about his family. Or friends. Or life. Again, not the most social guy."

There was movement in the back, as the staff member came back with a soldier, who promptly stood at attention.

"First Lieutenant Rodriguez, meet NCIS Agents Gibbs, Lima, and…"

"La Rue," Clarisse supplied.

"First Lieutenant," Gibbs greeted.

"Sir!"

"At rest, First Lieutenant," Annabeth said.

Gibbs started the questions as Rodrigues shifted his stance. "What's your relationship with Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale?"

The soldier frowned, confused. "He was a mechanic assigned to this vessel, sir."

"We're told that you were uncharacteristically disruptive around him."

"Yes, but I haven't been in confrontation with him, as per C.O. orders. If he's said-"

"First Lieutenant Rodriguez," The C.O. cut him off, "Sergeant Kahale was shot two nights ago."

"Shot?" Rodriguez said in shock, "But… we're home…"

"We know that you've been on board the entire time," Annabeth said, "We just need to know more about who Michael Kahale was."

"I-I understand, Ma'am."

"What made you dislike the Kahale, First Lieutenant?" Clarisse asked him.

"It's not that I disliked him, ma'am. Kahale was actually a good guy. Introverted, sure. But he was a good soldier, amazing smart, and easy to talk with. But I…" He faltered. "I don't know. For some reason, the friendly conversations always turned into some sort of fight? Like a challenge I couldn't lose to? I guess?"

"Don't sound sure of yourself," Annabeth noted.

"I can't explain it. Every time, it just led to a fight over any stupid, little thing. I honestly don't know why. I don't expect any of you to understand."

Clarisse heard Gibbs sigh tiredly and mumble, "Oh, I understand perfectly."

"Can you give us some examples of what you fought over?" Annabeth asked.

"They were stupid, ma'am. Like over the name of a future vessel. He thought it should be named USS Zeus. I said it to be USS Jupiter. We also fought over his position. Kahale was a good Marine but could've been even better. But he kept at being a non-commission mechanic because he had an issue with the control of our Superior Officers. I know he even declined a promotion to Warrant Officer. He disliked how strict military life was and preferred the more laxed nature of the machinists. He believed that individuality and improvisation held more value in the field than the collective skill of the group and rigid structure. He did not trust others with making decisions for him and disliked giving orders himself. But I know several of my brothers who have similar opinions, and I've never fought them over it."

Annabeth nodded, humming softly and deep in that brain of hers.

"Did he ever mention some sort of mission?" Gibbs asked.

Rodriguez blinked. "No. Nothing ever like that."

"Mexican Cartels? Arms dealing?" Gibbs fished.

"What? No!"

'Freaking Hades,' Clarisse thought, 'I hope this information isn't supposed to be kept low profile.'

"What about mythologies?"

The First Lieutenant stiffened. He was definitely a demigod. Clarisse would have to see if Chiron knew an Adrian Rodriguez.

"What do you mean?" Rodriguez tried playing off.

"Gods, Roman myths, Greek heroes, monsters, that sort of stuff."

"No."

"Then that's all we need from you, for now, First Lieutenant," Gibbs said, taking a glance at Annabeth.

"Catch who did this to my mechanic, Agents," the Commanding Officer said before the connection cut off.

Gibbs didn't waste any time.

"What am I missing here?"

Annabeth lifted an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Some random mechanic gets murdered hours away from his assigned vessel because he was uncovering an entire operation that was way out of his league. His dying words were to some girl whom he listed as an emergency contact with a Long Island number. Suddenly, I've got NCIS agents from a Long Island branch I've never heard of. This case has brought too many outside factors, and I have the feeling my team is out of the loop on specific information that can make this case more manageable."

"We know as much as you do," Clarisse retorted, "And missing information comes with the job. This is a mystery. We investigate and find the answers, complications and all."

Gibbs considered her for a moment before relenting and leading them back out of the heavily secured room. "Fine. I'm going to head to the bar. McGee, get DiNozzo to call the Strawberry Farm. I also want the personal files of First Lieutenant Rodriguez and his C.O. Ziva! Gear up." He looked around at the rest of the agents expectedly.

"Er, trying to squeeze out info of Cartel movement in the area," DiNozzo said, "Not much luck."

"Talked to Abby," Ziva picked up next, "Her professors were able to translate some more of the notes. This Doughnut place is apparently definitely arms dealing with the Reynosa Cartel. Sinaloa involvement is suspected. Middle East connection is pure speculation. Michael also noted that he believed he was found out because he smelled."

DiNozzo made to comment but was silenced by a look from Gibbs.

"I'm still IDing all of Mr. Tarsibo's victims," Grover said.

"And customers," Gibbs added.

"…And customers…"

"No mention of Monster Donut on the web," Percy reported, Annabeth's laptop in hand, "Making sure that if anyone finds it, we'll be the first ones to know."

Gibbs nodded and then headed towards the elevator with Ziva in tow. Clarisse admired the way his silent command to get back to work hung in the air. Except for one problem.

Clarisse was back in the bullpen. She hated it.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva was debriefed about the meeting with the commander on the way to the Drowsy Owl.

"If the Staff Sergeant was being seen by superior officers and the Commanding Officer didn't know anything," Ziva said, "Perhaps our Staff Sergeant was granted a mission."

But why give such an advanced and dangerous mission to a mere mechanic?

"Michael Kahale had been in service for five years," Ziva said, answering her own question. "They had given him training- maybe advanced secret in-training. Kept him officially as a mechanic, using it as a cover."

"But why send him on a case that without providing him resources?" Gibbs asked.

Hm. True. Michael Kahale had lacked money, cover, and backup. The time limit was horrendously short; what he uncovered in such a short amount of time was astonishing. If he hadn't ended up dead, she would have thought that it was a controlled mission.

"You said that First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez responded to the mention of mythological connection. Is it possible that whatever mission the Staff Sergeant was on, was not external but internal? An internal audit? But if Rodriguez was his target, he would have responded to the reference of cartel involvement."

"What if the Cartel wasn't initially apart of this operation?" Ziva thought back to her previous line of thought. "What if Rodriguez was involved? As Michael's partner. The First Lieutenant is thought of highly as well."

"Don't get caught up on theories," Gibbs warned.

"Maybe I should just follow my gut," Ziva teased.

"It's always worked for me," Gibbs said.

"What does it say now?" Ziva asked. She looked at him when he did not answer.

"It tells me that the Long Island Agents know something that they aren't sharing."

Ziva frowned but said nothing.

They came up to the store. "See if anyone has seen Tarsibo," Gibbs said.

"Not many people to ask," Ziva grumbled.

Reshaun Sachs was beginning to blindly invite them to choose a place to sit until he looked up from pouring a pint of bitter. "Let me guess," he said, "Navy cops."

Ziva and Gibbs flashed their Identification.

"This about the young Marine or something else?"

"Same one," Gibbs said.

"Didn't realize you had such big teams."

"Neither did I."

Ziva sent Gibbs a look and decided to change the topic, unfolding the blown-up photo of Tarsibo.

"Do you recognize this man?"

"Sorry. No."

"He seems to be a customer of yours," Ziva pushed, "He may have been here during the past week."

The bartender frowned, "If he passed those doors, I would remember. Especially from this week." Ziva nodded. She didn't find him to be lying. There were other ways waste from this place could have gotten to the car rental.

"Do you mind if I talk to your customers?" Ziva asked

Sachs shrugged. "You can, but all of these guys are regulars that just come for their lunch break."

Ziva assumed as much. She left Gibbs to converse with the man.

Sachs was surprised that they had found traces of his business as far away as East Maryland. Like Gibbs, Ziva was getting her own list of negative answers.

She walked around the bar, trying to envision it on a full night with businessmen, college students, and Mrs. Kahale with her entourage. It was an open area, which meant open conversations that could be the center of attention or hidden by those that took that position. The only place that was really hidden was the way to the restrooms, which had its own hidden hallway that led to a back exit. That was where Ziva excused herself to answer her buzzing phone.

"What is it, Tony?"

"Get into any bar fights, yet?" Tony used as a greeting.

"It is still a bit early, but it has happened before."

"Well, don't go too hard on them. People who go this early are there to drown something."

Ziva thought of the three businessmen in the bar hunching over their drinks. He was too right. "As I'm sure you know, Tony."

"I'm not that old," he said.

"You are what? Forty?"

"No!"

"Mmm, but I'm close. How many years am I off?"

"…Two. I'm still young, just have a few years of experience."

Ziva hummed. She didn't tell him that she had more years until she hit thirty.

"Well, I'm sure you didn't call me just for this."

"No, I'm here to update you so you can update Gibbs."

"Why not call him instead?"

"Figured he'd be doing some unofficial interrogation. And I would never break that rule."

"Well, what do you have."

Tony sighed, "Pretty much nothing. Got in connection with the Director of the Strawberry Service, a Mr. Dee. Took forever to get a final answer. 'I have a faint recollection of an Annie Bell.'" Tony droned in imitation, "'Yes, the girl is quite a trouble seeker, although she is one of the brighter ones I have had to deal with. Says a lot about them. However, she left. I don't expect her to be back for a while.' That was fifteen minutes into the conversation. He ends with an 'I grow tired of your pitiable blather.' And just hangs up."

Ziva snickers. "Doesn't sound like a reliable witness."

Ziva could imagine Tony shrugging in the squadroom, "It's what I got."

"Alright. Thanks." Ziva hung up the phone and accidentally stumbled when she bumped into something. Or rather someone "Oh, sorry I-" Ziva stopped as she got a look at who she almost toppled. It was a young man who had just come out of the lavatory. He was of an average built, a bit on the shorter side with a head full of blonde hair. He was in some sort of customer service uniform, a nametag still latched on. But Ziva only gave it an unconscious look over. No, she was more captivated by his eyes. They were a sickly green, and the iris seemed alive, swirling like snakes in a pit. And were those scales on his cheekbones?

"Agent?"

She blinked, and all those features were gone. Snake filled eyes replaced with light hazel ones. No scales either.

"I'm sorry," She told the man who had snapped her out of her stupor. Just what was that? "For bumping into you," she specified.

He smiled at her, "No problem."

She watched him leave her, heading for the back exit. How did he know she was an Agent? Was her badge showing? No… Who was he? She searched her brain for the answers. Wait. She had seen his nametag before getting distracted by his face. (She shivered at the recollection. Was it something she ate?) Then it hit her; the nametag had a cheesy 'Hi, I'm Tommy' in Comic Sans Font. It also had a logo of a one-eyed monster munching on a doughnut.

"Monster Donuts," Ziva breathed out in realization. The back door slammed shut. "Hey!" Ziva shouted, "Wait!" She ran toward the door. Before she exited, she remembered that the store was arms dealing, and anyone connected to it should be handled as armed and dangerous. Pulling out her firearm and quickly collecting herself, she slammed her way out and was met with… no one?

Ziva surveyed the area, circling in a three-sixty. There was no one there. How could he have gone that fast? He was only out of her sight for a few seconds.

Gibbs was not going to be happy with her.

After making sure to uncover any possible hiding places, she went back inside empty-handed.

Gibbs frowned at her as she entered. Ziva trusted him to connect the dots and directed her words at Sachs.

"You didn't say you had someone in your restroom."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gibbs change his stance, a mixture of weariness and drive to get the truth. However, the bartender seemed utterly confused. "There was? Oh, I had completely forgotten…"

Ziva shared a small look with Gibbs. Sachs seemed muddled all of a sudden. Strange and convincing. Ziva hadn't thought this man to be a good actor.

Ziva described him, more for Gibbs's benefit than Sachs's. "Yes, about this tall, blonde, green eyes, wearing a Monster Donut uniform."

Sachs's face lit up in realization. "Yes! He was one of the guys that the woman hangs out with, the one that the other agents knew, a Mrs. Kahale." His eyebrows scrunched together. "I can't believe I forgot about him coming in…"

Ziva shared another look with Gibbs. Either this man was telling the truth, or he was the best actor Ziva had encountered. Gibbs, although not outwardly changing his calm demeanor, seemed as dubious as she was.

"If he or anyone else from Monster Donuts come in," she said, "Please call us."

"They are connected with this Marko Tarsibo guy? What have they done?"

"A number of things," Ziva said.

The man gave an inquiring stare. Ziva expected that how dangerous they were could affect his business if he let continued to let them be customers at all.

"They are connected to arms dealing, Ziva said. "Also, have a connection to the death of multiple murders, including children."

"They've killed kids?" The statement seemed to call Sachs back from his confounded state. "You said that this guy was a part of this and that he was a car dealer, right?"

The agents nodded.

"The kids, were they middle-school-age? Older girl with Asian features?"

Ziva scrambled for her phone, bringing out the profiles of the most recent child victims. She shoved the phone in the man's face. "Are these them?"

"Yeah, I know them. They had come in, ordered some soda, burgers, and fries. They looked pretty street-savvy, I kept my eye on them to make sure no one slipped them anything or took an order for them. I got something about how they were headed for the Carolinas, I guess they needed a ride. That woman, Mrs. Kahale, spoke with them for a bit. I didn't hear what was said, but if they needed a ride and she knew this dealer, she could've gave them to him."

The NCIS agents didn't give him time to finish as they rushed out the door.

-Περσεύς-

Percy would never get an office job. He thought being a Federal Agent would have been so exciting. Sitting on a desk doing the same thing over and over again was killing him. He kept getting distracted by the happenings outside. (Hey, those windows were huge. Not his fault the outside world was more entertaining.) He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty every time Grover would snap him out of his daydreaming. He was supposed to be helping make official profiles of each victim, so that a) the families could be notified, b) Dr. 'Ducky' could analyze and create a deeper understanding of General Botsaris and his victims, and c) so that Annabeth could report back to Chiron, and they could contact the families of the demigods.

Percy did have to admit that Tony's conversation with Mr. D was quite funny. Although, he was only able to hear one side of the conversation.

'No, not Annie Bell. Annabeth.'

'No, I am not here for strawberries.'

'Yes, wine sounds wonderful, but-'

'So, did she work there or not? What do you mean, who? Annabeth Chase!'

And it just continued. Percy had cracked up as the agent repeatedly smacked his head on his hand while talking to the exasperating god. If only he knew how it felt to deal with Mr. D on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis.

Unfortunately, that was what felt like an hour ago. McGee had sent a file to Tony a while later and was on his way to escape to 'help Abby run prints.'

"I'll be using the system," McGee told Grover and Percy, "Hopefully, it won't slow down too much."

"It shouldn't be a problem." Annabeth walked in, looking a bit disgruntled after her talk with Chiron. "Although we are using the same system, it's coding and routes have changed, meaning it can still use the data and have access to an ever-updating network while not really using the same path and program you'll be using."

Percy would have totally zoned out from that explanation if it wasn't for Grover nudging him to make another profile.

McGee made a face. "You can do that?"

"Not really. It's the computer."

"What are the specs?" McGee leaned in to check Daedalus' laptop's design. "What's the brand? I don't recognize it."

"It's experimental."

"Huh, well I'm going to-"

"Not so fast, probie," Tony called.

Percy looked up. Tony had better not been calling for him. He eased up when it was apparent he was talking to McGee.

"Rodriguez also uses disposable, pre-paid phones," Tony said, "But he makes regular family calls. If we searched his family's phone records, we would find a record of regular calls coming in but from different numbers? Wouldn't that be the case if Michael did the same?"

"But we already checked the Kahale's phone records, Tony," McGee said.

"No. We only checked Patricia Kahale's, and she said she didn't even know Michael even joined the Marines. Daddy, however, had a better relationship."

"And when Percy and I spoke with him," Annabeth said, "He gave me the impression that he knew about Michael joining."

"McGee, pop up the man's phone calls," Tony said.

McGee shared his screen on the plasma. Window screens flashed on and off as McGee used keyboard shortcuts lightning quick, even using long sequences of code that Percy didn't know could be memorized.

"Okay, filtering for numbers that are no longer in service."

"Wow, that's a long list," Percy said. They weren't going to have to go through some sort of procedure on each one, were they?

"He is a lawyer," Grover said, "He must get tons of scam and calls from one-time numbers."

"It doesn't matter," Annabeth said.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter," Percy asked. Was Annabeth okay? How bad was the call with Chiron?

"I mean, I've found what we're looking for." She pointed to a six-minute call starting 12:52 A.M. yesterday morning. That was right before the approximate time of death.

"It's not the same number the Staff Sergeant used," Tony said.

"A spare phone," Clarisse said, "He uses one phone call on a pre-paid, dumps it, and then uses the second to make another call."

A demigod technique. Annabeth and Chiron told him of it when he went outside of camp. The only time it was safe to keep a phone after making a call on it was in or right by camp. Otherwise, it was a traveling beacon for monsters.

"The father made the call," Tony said, "McGee, can you find the location where the burner picked up?"

McGee clicked a couple of times. "Washington, D.C."

"Alright," Tony said. "I'll call Gibbs, and we'll pick him up."

"Sweet, let's go," Percy said.

"Wait, Percy," Grover said with big eyes, effectively killing Percy's hope. "I still need your help with this."

"It's fine. We got this," Tony said, him and McGee rushing toward the elevator.

Percy watched them as they disappeared with a ding. Great, the three people that were the least qualified for desk jobs were the ones left at the desks. At least they had Grover to stop them from accidentally blowing up the place and being labeled as domestic terrorists, yet the way the satyr was inhaling those paper clips didn't bode well.

The phone at Tony's desk started to ring. The four of them stared at it for a second. "Should we get Tony back?" Percy asked.

"Ugh," Clarisse rolled her eyes. What? What did he say? Gods, she was just so annoying. 'And rude,' he added as he watched her get up and answer the cop's phone, but he already knew that.

"Yeah," Clarisse greeted. She was silent for the ten seconds as the caller spoke. Percy wasn't even surprised as the daughter of Ares slammed the phone back down without another word.

"They found Botsaris's car," Clarisse said.

'That at least deserved a 'Thank You,' was Percy's immediate thought.

Annabeth jumped up. "Let's go."

Finally! "Did you get the address?" Percy asked, excited to get out.

"Duh."

Grover looked around as all of them got ready to head out. "Um, should we tell-"

"No!" Clarisse and Annabeth both said, or growled in one case.

Grover held his hands up in surrender. "Okay."

Percy made sure everything he needed was on him and swept the desk clear of a small pile of broken pen clips. When had those gotten there?

"Let's kick some butt!" Clarisse grinned. Percy couldn't agree more.

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[scarpool-gmk]

2

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 2 (3/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

"Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, aged twenty-one, born on March 15, 1988," said Tim, pulling up Kahale's I.D. on the plasma screen. "Joined the force when he was sixteen. Signed up as a machinist. Clean service record, and absolutely spectacular performance remarks."

"Background?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…" Tim looked at Tony for help. Tony shrugged at him. Prick. "There wasn't really anything…"

"I think what McGee means to say," Tony said, exasperated, "is that there are barely any records before he enlisted. No high school. No college. Not even a sports club."

"Not even the car was his," Underwood piped up, getting off of his laptop. "I just ran the number of the car. It's a rental. Marko's High-Performance Cars of East Maryland run by a Mr. Marko Tarsibo."

Tony smiled, and Tim prepared to roll his eyes.

"Marko? Ah," Tony tried on his best Russian accent, "'It reminds me of the heady days of Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin when the world trembled at the sound of our rockets. Now they will tremble again - at the sound of our silence.'" He looked around expectantly, grinning, and was about to speak until Lima responded.

"The Hunt for Red October," she said. "Captain Marko Ramius."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Tim smirked as Tony blinked away his surprise. "That's right. 1990. Sean Connery. Directed by-"

"John McTiernan," Lima finished for him.

"Nice," Tony said, "Are you a-"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said. Tim swore he saw his boss flash a look at Lima that was far from gratifying.

"Right," Tony continued and snatched the remote out of Tim's hand. "The only records we could find were family members and profiles of his first six elementary schools."

Tim raised his eyebrows and turned to Gibbs. "Six schools in five years. Kindergarten to fourth grade. Looks like a troubled kid."

"Or a troubled family life," Gibbs said.

"The changes were definitely not about his grades," Jackson said with a grin, flashing his eyes to his boss who, to her credit, did not spare him a glance.

"Very true," Ziva said. "Kahale passed all of the knowledge evaluations with close to perfect scores getting maybe one or two wrong."

"Passed all of the Military's written exam bars with such great scores he was able to skip some basic classes. Guy's like the next Einstein, Boss," Tony said, "Genius."

Gibbs nodded slightly. "Anything else? Was there a missing child report?"

Tim looked at him, a bit anxious to persist with the bad news. "None, Boss, and it's like I said. No other information at all between his fourth-grade year and when he enlisted. It's like he didn't exist for about six years."

"Well, he had to have been somewhere," Ziva said matter-of-factly.

"And what could he have been doing?" Tim wondered. "Possible that he could have made enemies during this time, Boss?"

"And then went to hide from them by joining the corps?" the burly girl, La Rue, if Tim remembered correctly, asked skeptically and crossed her arms.

Ziva grabbed the TV remote from Tony. "The Sergeant's family lives in Baltimore."

"Mr. Johnathan Kahale, the father, is an esteemed lawyer for the private company, Lowe's Consultancy," La Rue stated, "His salary is two hundred eighty thousand. His step-mother, Patricia Kahale," Tim heard her voice turn a bit bitter, "is a salesperson for an insurance company. They have three kids together."

"Absolutely no information on his biological mother," Underwood said, albeit a bit nervously casting glances to Lima.

"Let's work our way through both of these missing timelines. Clarisse," Lima ordered, "go to the car rental. Get all the info you can, and find who gave him the car."

Tim saw his boss eye the young special agent. "DiNozzo," he said, "go with her."

Lima glanced at Gibbs with careful, calculating eyes. "And Percy, talk to the parents." She looked back at Gibbs, waiting for him to interject again.

He didn't say anything at first, and Tim held his breath for a second. Why is it always so tense?

"Ziva," he stated. Ziva nodded. Nobody moved. "Well? Move!" Everybody started scurrying to their assigned task.

Tim tried not to show how startled he was when Gibbs whispered at him. "Do a background check on them. I don't like not knowing who I'm really working with."

Tim nodded. Of course, Gibbs didn't trust the Long Island team.

"Lima!" Gibbs called, going up the stairs. "Come on."

And so, Tim was left alone with Agent Underwood, who had plopped himself on Tony's desk and was typing on his laptop.

-Λεον-

Was it him, or did his paperwork triple since yesterday? The director groaned, pulling a hand over his face, and glanced at a packet that had something to do with the FBI. It was huge, and it was just one packet in a mountain. His secretary swore that she has no recollection of it coming into his office. Leon glared at the pile conspiringly. Honestly, she probably had such a traumatic experience just by looking at the amount that her brain wiped the memory of the entire moment to spare itself. He hoped this was just some nightmare, but no…

Not to mention, he got a late notification this morning telling him of a joint assignment with the NCIS branch of Long Island. Which meant they were paired up with Gibbs. Which meant Gibbs was going to barge into his office like he owned the place and throw a hissy fit. Which meant his headache was going to get 10 times worse! Maybe Gibbs wouldn't drag in the Agent in charge of the Long Island team, so Vance didn't have to mend another relationship between agencies.

And just like that, his door was thrown open, and Gibbs sauntered in. "Speak of the devil," the director grumbled. At the corner of his eye, he saw a notification pop up on his computer screen, most likely his secretary apologizing again about Gibbs's intrusion.

"Good morning to you too, Director Vance," Gibbs said with a smile.

Leon Vance felt the blood leave his face. It was still morning? Aw, he swore it had been hours since- wait, Leroy Jethro Gibbs calling him by his given title? Oh no. And then he saw her. Blonde, lean, professional, young…a bit too young. He straightened up and looked her in the eyes, a startling grey. How interesting.

"Director Vance," the girl nodded in greeting.

Leon returned the nod, taking a side glance at Gibbs's fake smile, and offered his hand. "Yes, and you are?"

"Special Agent Anne Lima," she replied as she shook his hand, firm, meeting his eyes, confident, determined.

"Ah, from Long Island, yes?"

"That's right."

"Director," Gibbs said, "My team can handle this case."

Blunt as usual. "Well, Agent Gibbs," Leon quipped, "Extra hands are always a help and appreciated."

"Why wasn't I notified about this when I was told about the case?" Leon saw Gibbs's eye twitch.

"I just got the e-mail this morning, and unfortunately, wasn't able to see until later. But Gibbs, working with the Long Island branch opens a way to connect to our other fellow agents," Leon said sternly but kindly shot a smile to the girl. She raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs took that as a sign to interrogate the poor girl. "Why is Long Island interested in the Staff Sergeant?"

"Michael was stationed at a ship currently docked in Northern New Jersey. He also had other matters that had him in Long Island," Lima replied smoothly.

Gibbs was ready to grill her some more, but his cell phone rang. 'Thank God.'

He gave Agent Lima another distrustful glace before glancing at the caller ID. Gibbs opened his flip phone. "Yeah, Abbs?"

'Yes,' the Director thought, 'Leave it to Ms. Sciuto to save us.'

"Yeah, we'll be right there." He clicked his phone shut and headed for the door. "Come on," he ordered Lima. The girl glanced at Leon with an unimpressed look, before heading out the door Gibbs was holding open.

Leon stopped Gibbs before the man could leave. "I didn't appreciate you turning my office into an interrogation room; don't do it again."

Gibbs tilted his head in response and left.

Alone again, Leon allowed another sigh to escape him as he rubbed his temples. Gibbs was being Gibbs, and although he had to admit the toughness of Agent Lima to yet be unmoved by the man, Leon worried that her stubbornness would be too much like Gibbs. Just added stress…

Speaking of stress, Leon looked at the mountain of files on his desk. Gathering himself up, he picked one up. He opened it, made a face, and put it back down.

"I need a coffee," He muttered, 'Or something stronger.'

-Ζήβα-

Ziva decided that Jackson had a very likable personality. The two rode together to visit the Kahale family, and Ziva had opted to drive, receiving no argument from Jackson. However, she had not been able to get much information on the NCIS Long Island branch than what Lima had already told them.

"Well, I think your mother and I would get along very well," Ziva laughed as she walked up to the door of the house, locking the car behind her with the remote key. She knocked on the door, quickly assessing her surroundings. She saw Jackson casually glance through a window. She caught the grin he sent her way. No visual problems from the front door, then.

A couple seconds later, a woman's voice came through the door. "Who is it?"

"NCIS!" Ziva shouted through.

"IDs, please."

'So,' Ziva thought, 'this woman is one of those.' She and Jackson brought their Federal IDs to the peephole. They heard the click of a lock turning, and the door opened to reveal a young woman. Ziva recognized her from the rundown on the dead Sergeant. "Patricia Kahale?"

The woman stared at them through the parted gap of the doorway. "What do you want?"

"I am Agent Ziva David, and this is Agent Jackson. We are here to inform you about your son-er-stepson, Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

"What about him?" Mrs. Kahale asked tersely.

Ziva resisted an urge to sigh in exasperation. "If we can converse indoors, Mrs. Kahale," she said politely.

For a moment, the woman didn't move and only observed both of them. 'A suspicious woman?' Ziva noted. After supposedly deeming them trustworthy enough, she allowed them in her home. The dwelling was telling of an upper-middle-class family. There were pictures of the Kahale family among the house for display. They featured mostly of Patricia's and Johnathan's three kids, two boys and the youngest, a girl. Not one showed the face of Staff Sergeant Kahale. As Mrs. Kahale led them into the living room, Ziva found the house to be impeccably clean and organized. She remained standing, and so did the two NCIS agents. "What is it you wished to tell me?" the woman asked.

Ziva made a show of turning her head as if looking about. "Where is your husband and children, Mrs. Kahale?"

"Out," she said curtly, "Johnathan took the kids on a visit to the beach."

"Do you know when they'll be back?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"No," The woman eyed him, "Aren't you a little young to be a federal agent?"

Ziva caught Jackson stiffen. "Just look like it."

Ziva tried not to frown. Mrs. Kahale didn't seem to believe it.

"You never answered my question. Why are you here?"

Ziva sighed. "I regret to inform you, ma'am, that your step-son, Michael, was found dead this morning."

Patricia Kahale closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Michael? Michael is dead for sure?"

"We are sorry for your loss," Ziva consoled, even as Mrs. Kahale was shaking her head.

"I didn't really know him. I didn't even know he joined the corps. I haven't seen him for years."

Jackson nodded. Ziva stared at him to see if he was going to ask any questions. She internally sighed when he remained silent, looking just a bit awkward- and kind of dumb, too, just standing there.

"We noticed that your step-son disappears on record for a period of nine years. May you explain why that is?"

"I think that is a question for my husband."

Ziva raised an elegant eyebrow at the quickness of her response. "Oh, why is that? Does your husband know where his son went?"

"No." Mrs. Kahale started to head for the door, "He ran off years ago, now I think you should leave. I don't have anything more to say about the boy."

Ziva took the hint but took her time to rattle off a couple more questions, "There was no report of the disappearance."

"We did report it, we were never contacted," the woman responded, as she held the door open for them.

"We will also need someone to confirm the identity of the body, Ziva said as she went back outside.

"Call us," Mrs. Kahale all but shot back.

As Jackson passed the lady out the door, he said, "Thank you for your time."

The woman grunted and shut the door. The lock clicked back into place.

"What a nice lady," Jackson lamented.

Ziva scowled at him, "What was that?"

"Looks like she didn't like us much."

"Obviously. No, I'm talking about you. You weren't much help!"

Jackson had the gall to look surprised, "You had it!"

"Well, someone had to," Ziva shook her head, feeling disappointed. "Anyway, I have a feeling that Mrs. Kahale does not care much about her step-son, and from the way she threw us out- it seems she might be hiding something."

"Did you see the knife?" Jackson asked, acting nonchalant.

Ziva was thrown off guard, "What? Where?"

"The table by the entrance," Jackson said, "It's probably nothing, just forget about it."

Ziva wasn't deterred, "Really? On the table?" Ziva tried to remember. She may have seen something shine in the light, but she must not have noticed it. Was she getting rusty? "What is it doing there?"

"Nothing, probably just a fancy envelope opener."

Ziva sent a look at him.

Jackson shifted on his feet for a bit. "So, what do we do now?"

Ziva sighed, thinking about what she had to tell Gibbs, "I must report back to Gibbs and then call Mr. Kahale."

"Let's go then, I'll drive."

Ziva's brows furrowed into a small frown as Jackson practically raced to the car. He was hiding something. But what? And what was the significance of the dagger? She had a strong feeling these agents from Long Island were not telling them everything.

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse did not enjoy her car ride. Her first opinion on this 'Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo' was that he was a complete doofus. And he was, but it was made clear why he had gotten to be a top agent. His tactic was to play the completely dumb chatterbox, and boy could he talk like a daughter of Athena in a museum, but that was just a ploy to get others to talk to him as well. This was an interrogation. And Clarisse had gotten pissed off. She did not like being interrogated by some snobby, stuffed up Agent. And she especially hated how he had done it. If Clarisse La Rue was to be interrogated, then let it be straight up. No descendant of the Ares was going to tolerate such a petty approach.

So, she had told him to 'shut up or else.'

Ah, sweet silence.

DiNozzo broke that with a whistle of appreciation as they finally drove into the Rental estate. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Rows of high-performance sports cars were displayed for customers.

"Wow!" Agent DiNozzo exclaimed as he parked the car. Clarisse rolled her eyes as she saw him slide on some sunglasses dramatically and walk up to a sleek, red Ferrari. "Wow!" He repeated. He checked his reflection in its tinted windows. Clarisse frowned slightly as he pulled his phone out to take a selfie.

"Come on," she huffed at him, "We're supposed to interview why Michael was here, not take selfies of cars we can't afford." She looked at a description of a Lamborghini, "Besides, what are you going to do with 600 horsepower, go from one red light to the next red light?"

"Ah, it's about the display, the comfort, the thrill on the highway, the style." DiNozzo lifted an eyebrow and grinned at his phone, most likely looking at his newest selfies. "Besides, you got to learn how to take a break from time to time."

Clarisse scowled and led the way into the dealership building, leaving the older Agent to trail behind her at a slow pace still taking in the sights. She entered the building and breathed in the cool air. Though once the door closed behind her, she tensed and didn't move a muscle.

DiNozzo charged through the door still talking. "You know, taking breaks during work is suggested. It can be a stressful job and-"

"Sh!" Clarisse snapped.

DiNozzo blinked in surprise. "You know, I think we started off on the wrong foot," he began.

"No," Clarisse whispered, "It's not that."

DiNozzo frowned, "Why are we whispering?"

"Do you hear that?" Clarisse asked.

Clarisse's ears rang a little as DiNozzo took a couple seconds to listen. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly."

"Manager could just be in his office?" DiNozzo mused, but even still, he nodded.

"Hello?" He called out. "Mr. Tarsibo?"

Clarisse moved towards a glass window, facing the street. They were right by a busy street intersection, too.

An office door opened as a man pushed his way out and quickly shut the door behind him. "My apologies, I had a customer to attend to."

Clarisse's senses prickled, "A customer?" she asked, glancing around the empty building.

The man smiled, "Yes, he was otherwise engaged and did his business through call. I am Marko Tarsibo, by the way," He held his hand out, "How may I help you?"

"Mr. Tarsibo," Agent DiNozzo replied as he shook the proffered hand, "I am Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS, and this is Agent Clarisse La Rue."

"Federal Agents," Tarsibo acknowledged, his shake strong and confident, "What seems to be the issue?"

"Unfortunately," DiNozzo explained, "Your car was found in a crash site."

"Crashed? How horrible! But no worries, I have procedures in place for such a situation. The renter does sign a form and all that jazz. Come and sit, and I can give you any additional information you want."

He directed them to the front desk.

"Yes, thank you," DiNozzo said, "We would like to confirm the lessee of the car."

"Of course, I hope the person was not critically injured by the crash. Do you have a plate number or anything I can go by?"

DiNozzo brought the plate number and other such identification numbers up on his phone.

As they sat there, Clarisse observed the area of the main desk. It was pretty bland except for the assortment of mini flags. She was able to identify the American flag as well as the French and even the Greek flag. There were a couple more she really didn't recognize- maybe that one was Finnish. She saw another with a horse and rider. She tilted her head a bit. Did that one have Greek words on it? Before she could read it, Mr. Tarsibo exclaimed, "Yes! Here we are. A Mr. Michael Kahale was the client. I remember him. Yes, a marine, was he? Is he alright?"

"He did not make it," DiNozzo responded.

"We are currently investigating his death," Clarisse added, "How did you know he was a Marine?"

Mr. Tarsibo directed his smile to her, "We have a discount for members of the service and veterans here. Proper ID is required."

"Can you tell us about your interaction with Staff Sergeant Kahale, Mr. Tarsibo?" Agent DiNozzo asked.

"It was very brief," Mr. Tarsibo said, "He was simply looking for a quality car for his time here. Nothing out of the ordinary at all."

"When was he here?"

"Two days ago. Sometime in the afternoon. Let me give you the time from the sale."

Mr. Tarsibo quickly printed out a log and handed it to them. "Will there be anything else today, agents?"

"No," Agent DiNozzo said with a smile of his own and offered his card. "Thank you for your time, and please don't hesitate to give us a call if you remember anything."

"It was no problem, and if you ever need to rent a car, I would be happy to offer discounts to federal agents as well."

Mr. Tarsibo's warm smile led them all the way out.

The blast of noise when Clarisse stepped outside was welcoming. She took a deep breath of fresh air.

Agent DiNozzo walked up behind her. "What was up with you and Mr. Smiles in there?"

Clarisse glared at him. "I don't trust him. He's slimy. I don't know what it is; maybe he's not sharing everything or something.

"I understand the distrust. But he is a car dealer. It is natural to feel that, but maybe try not to be so aggressive next time."

"Whatever," Clarisse growled. She snatched the car keys out of his hands. No way was she just going to sit in a car for another two hours doing nothing.

"I'm driving."

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[scarpool-gmk]

4

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 4 (5/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Clarisse didn't think much of the place. It was just like any other bar, gross yet comfortable. Still, she hadn't survived her life by judging by appearance alone.

"Do you smell anything?" she asked Grover.

The satyr discreetly smelled the air. He made a face. "Alcohol, greasy food, some of these guys haven't taken a shower in a while, and the dumpster seems to have seen some unpleasant stuff. Maybe a slight whiff of monster, but that could just be from everything else."

Clarisse grunted. "Can't be too careful."

They walked up to the bar, and the bartender walked over. "Welcome to the Drowsy Owl," he said, and gave them a quick look over, "If you want to drink, I'll need to see ID."

"We're not here for a drink, Mr. Sachs," Clarisse said. She showed her badge. She had to admit, she loved doing that. Not that she'd ever say it out loud. "NCIS. Agent Clarisse La Rue, Grover Underwood."

"Navy? What can I help you with?"

Clarisse showed a photo of Michael in uniform. "Do you recognize this dude?"

"Yeah, heh- knew that haircut wasn't by choice. He came in here quite a lot during the past week or so."

"Did he come with someone or meet with anyone?"

The man shook his head. "No. He kept to himself. Always ordered quickly and quietly. Actually, he never got a drink either. Seemed to really want to keep to himself."

Clarisse nodded in understanding.

"Um," Grover started, "we have to ask, but…"

Clarisse sighed. "He paid in cash, right?"

The barkeep thought for a second. "Yeah. Every time."

"Do you know the validity of the cash he gave?"

"Oh, of course," Mr. Sachs said in realization, "Well, it was mostly tens and twenties, but I always check. Seemed good to me."

Clarisse could accept that. "I'll take your word for it." She handed him her card. "If you think of anything else, please call."

As she turned to go, she stopped when a familiar face walked by her.

"Mrs. Kahale," Clarisse exclaimed.

The woman turned, "Yes?"

"NCIS. You met with our partners earlier today."

"Oh, more agents," the woman smiled politely, "How nice to meet more of you."

"Really? Nice?" Clarisse snarked, "That's not what I heard."

Mrs. Kahale's smile wavered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I want to know why you aren't with your family. Why are you here, a place that your stepson visited nearly every day for the time he was here, a stepson you don't seem to care much about?"

Grover coughed behind her.

"That boy was nothing but trouble," Mrs. Kahale seethed. "No, I'm not upset about his death, and you won't catch me mourning for him. But my husband is extremely upset, and I would never do anything to hurt him. So, if you are suggesting that I killed the boy or was involved, then you really don't deserve that badge.

"As for why I'm here, there is nothing to it. Why can't I be here? I never saw Michael in this place, so it's all purely coincidence.

"That's all I have to say. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have many things still to do today." With that said, she stormed out.

Clarisse turned back to the barkeep. "That woman, does she come here often?"

"Yeah," the man said, "in fact, she's been coming here for a couple of months. Always meets up with some guys."

"Guys?" Grover repeated, "She's married..."

The bartender shrugged. "She doesn't arrive with them. Doesn't leave with them either."

"What kind of guys?" Clarisse inquired.

"Wide variety, but the most often is this younger-looking dude. He works at some fast food place; doughnuts I think it was."

"Do you have a description of him or a video even? Did you manage to hear what they were talking about?"

Mr. Sachs shook his head. "Sorry. Don't have cameras here. Didn't get a good look at his face either. And I don't get into anybody's business as it would potentially affect mine. Sorry I can't help you more."

"No problem," Clarisse reassured. "Have a nice day."

"You too."

They finally left the place.

"I don't think it was a good idea to anger Mrs. Kahale, Clarisse," Grover admonished.

"I don't like it," Clarisse scowled, "Michael hangs out for over a week in the bar his stepmother also hangs out in?"

"Well…" Grover hesitated but gathered himself. "We don't have anything to prove, well, anything. Besides, it could just be a coincidence like she said."

"I don't believe in coincidences." Clarisse had made too many mistakes believing in coincidences. "And you shouldn't either."

She trudged to the car. "It should be a rule."

-Ανναβετη-

"Come on, Wise Girl," Percy said as he drove the car in front of the Kahale residence, "Just because Ziva may say something about the knife in the house, doesn't mean Gibbs will think that both it and Michael's are suspicious. She wasn't even aware of it before I brought it up."

"Gibbs is a smart guy, Percy," Annabeth argued. "I just hope that all the stuff Chiron and I did is enough."

"Stop worrying. It's fine. There's no way you didn't think of anything."

Annabeth gave him a look.

"And if you did, which I doubt," Percy said, "we'll just deal with it as it comes up."

Annabeth sighed and knocked on the front door. Sure, they've been chased by cops before, but these were federal agents, federal agents that Annabeth and her friends were impersonating. Percy had no idea what he was getting into, and if she was being honest with herself, neither did Annabeth. The quicker she finished this investigation, the better.

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged man that Annabeth recognized as Jonathan Kahale.

"Good afternoon! How may I-" He stopped abruptly when his eyes locked with Annabeth's. He looked at her in shock, his face visibly paling. Annabeth suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Percy cleared his throat. "Mr. Kahale," he addressed, taking over for Annabeth, "We are NSCI-"

"NCIS," Annabeth automatically corrected, shaking the awkwardness away, "I am Special Agent Anne Lima, and this is my partner, Percy Jackson. I believe you were told of our coming."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Kahale cleared his throat a couple times, "Of course. Please, lead the way."

"Is your wife not coming, Mr. Kahale?" Annabeth asked as the man closed his door.

"No. She is out."

Annabeth opted to drive, if only that it gave her something to do while she was in the car with Michael's father.

"Where is this NCIS building?" Mr. Kahale asked.

"In D.C.," Annabeth answered.

Percy shot a smile at the backseat. "It's not too far. We'll have you back home real quick, Mr. Kahale."

The man nodded, falling silent. Annabeth nor Percy picked up conversation, and an uncomfortable silence settled in.

The man's deathly stillness was such a contrast to Percy's constant fidgeting. He looked lost in thought, which was always a bad idea for a demigod. Annabeth was unused to having someone without ADHD ride with her. It was kind of eerie.

After fifteen minutes, which felt like an hour, Mr. Kahale seemed to have the courage to speak up again.

"So, you two are," Mr. Kahale hesitated, and tapped his tongue on his lips a few times, "demigods?"

Percy froze in the middle of playing with the air conditioning vent.

Annabeth glanced in the rearview mirror to see the older man staring right back at her. "Why would you say that?" Annabeth asked.

"I will never forget what Michael's mother looked like," he said seriously.

Annabeth looked at the road. Oh.

"And, erm, when you misplaced the letters of the agency, Mr. Jackson was it? It alludes to your dyslexia. Also, how when you drive, Miss Lima, you tend to only read the symbols. When you had to change lanes, you did not see the construction signs that told that the right lane was right turn only. You only swapped at the last second when you saw the street arrows. And, you keep drumming your hands on the wheel, constantly moving them around. And although the consistent checking of your side and rear-view mirrors is a great driving practice, it's more likely due to your ADHD. Not that your driving is bad…."

Annabeth grit her teeth as the man kept talking. His nervous rambling wouldn't be so bad if only it wasn't critiquing her driving skills! Percy seemed to notice that things were going downhill and interrupted the man.

"So, did you ever meet up with Michael while he was here?"

"I didn't even know he was here," Mr. Kahale gloomed, "How long was he here?"

"Just under a week."

"Oh, I see." Mr. Kahale slumped further into his seat.

Annabeth felt for him. Michael was her brother, but he was one of many, and she had grown up with the tragedy of heroes she called siblings and friends. But for Mr. Kahale, Michael was his son, and the only tie he probably had left to the goddess he loved.

"I am sorry for your loss," Annabeth said.

Mr. Kahale looked up at her. "Do you know if he was happy at the camp?" He asked.

Annabeth nodded. "I believe so. He got along well with everyone. I only knew him for a year before he left for the Marines, but he always kept in contact and visited."

"It must have been really nice for him to be around family and people who could relate with him about his world."

"Michael was determined not to be held down by the divine world," Annabeth said, "And, although he may have been surrounded by all of the demigods, nothing beats true family."

She would know. No matter how bad things got between her and her family, they were always there. They were the stability in her crazy life. She remembered when her father came rushing in to save the day with his WWI plane. Then again, they could, if they needed to, be just as crazy.

Annabeth parked the car, and before getting out, she turned to look at Mr. Kahale. "Not everyone is a demigod or are even aware of our world," she warned.

"I won't say anything," Mr. Kahale promised.

Annabeth and Percy led him into the federal building. They made their way through check-in. For some reason, Percy insisted on waiting for them on the main floor. Annabeth and Mr. Kahale went into the elevator, going down to autopsy.

The elevator doors shut. Annabeth willed herself not to be affected by this man, as she noticed him staring at her, again. "Michael always looked like me," he finally said, "But you…" he took a breath. Annabeth realized that his hands were shaking. Were they doing that the entire time? "You have such a striking resemblance…" He finished.

Annabeth gave a light, breathy laugh. "Yes. You have no idea how much trouble it has cost me."

"I'm sorry," he said, "You know, I always knew this was a possibility. Michael told me the average age of demigods, but he was safe at camp, and when he joined the force, he was just a mechanic. I always told him to be careful. To be safe." He wiped his eyes. "But, I never understood the weight of the exact danger."

The doors opened up, and Annabeth led him into autopsy. Dr. Mallard had swapped out of his scrubs and was looking very professional in his bow tie.

It was a quick procedure, and they were able to leave quickly.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Kahale. You still have a family. Go be with them." Annabeth said before watching as Percy took him.

She pulled herself together. She needed to see Abby. Where did she say she was going to be again? The garage? She headed off in that general direction, and she was right.

Well, she was pretty sure. She found a pair of legs sticking out of a hole in the battered sports car, but she didn't think anyone else would wear those shoes.

"Abby?" Annabeth called out.

"Agent Lima?" A voice in the car responded. The legs started to swing around, as Abby attempted to escape.

"Yes," Annabeth affirmed, "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"No," Abby said, "I'm fine. Perfectly-OW!-fine."

Annabeth took that to mean 'No' and started to haul Abby out of the hole by her legs. Except, this concept was a bit harder to carry out than Annabeth had thought.

"Stop kicking," Annabeth ordered, dodging what would have led to a broken nose.

"Sorry-Hey! Don't pull on the boots, man!"

"Gods, stop twisting! Just wiggle a bit."

"Wait, don't pull so fast! Just-just-"

"Okay. Here we go."

Annabeth finally lugged the lab rat out. Annabeth took a step back to catch her breath. Abby leaned on the car to do the same.

"What were you doing?" Annabeth blew out.

"Searching for any DNA samples," Abby panted, "Fingerprints, blood, spit, hair, nail clippings, sp-"

"Nail clippings?" Annabeth repeated.

Abby gave her a look. "You would be surprised where I've found nail clippings."

Deciding she didn't want the full list, Annabeth turned to the surrounding onlookers. "What are you looking at? Get back to work."

Abby looked on in amusement at the sudden scrambling of the NCIS personnel.

"Do you have anything, Abby?" Annabeth asked.

"Well, I am still working on the car. It's a shame, such a nice car."

"What about the phone?" Annabeth queried.

"Where's Gibbs?" Abby asked, obviously avoiding the question.

Annabeth wanted to roll her eyes. Seriously? They were still on this?

"He went to Michael's apartment with Agent McGee."

"Oh…"

"Abby, you got the phone to work, didn't you?"

Abby sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I was able to get all the list of contacts he kept on the phone. It was definitely a burner. He only made one call with it, which was to this number. The contact name listed was Annabeth Chase. Unfortunately, the number he called is also unregistered."

"Alright. Thank you, Abby."

"Yep," Abby said, already crawling back into the hole from whence she came. Not exactly the best idea, but Annabeth resolved to come back later to see if Abby needed rescuing again. Now, she had a call to make.

-Τιμοτηψ-

"Now, you sure you boys don't need anything?" the bumbling landlady asked for about the fifth time as she led them to apartment Sergeant Kahale rented out.

"No, we're fine," Tim repeated, not missing a beat.

"Alright, then. Well, here we are."

Tim couldn't completely keep in the sigh of relief as they came up to the room.

"This is his room?" Gibbs made sure.

The lady nodded. "Yeah. You guys want-"

"We are perfectly fine, ma'am," Tim interrupted.

"Alright. I'll be in the lobby if you need me. Don't forget to return the key when you leave."

"Jeez," Tim exclaimed when the woman was out of earshot. "If I was staying here, I would do my best to not be in for most of the day either."

"Ah, she's not that bad, McGee," Gibbs lightly scolded, fiddling with the key.

"Well, at least let's hope she's not knocking…woah…"

"'Woah' is right," Gibbs agreed as he entered the room. Tim followed a bit more carefully. He didn't want to disrupt the network of link analysis that littered the room.

It was writing. And lots of it. The wall was layered with notecards, post-it notes, and even pinned up napkins covered in scrawls. The table reminded Tim of his school days when he was writing his thesis for his Master's Degree.

Tim was used to a visual plot having more images, like photographs. The only thing that came close was a map, littered in more post-it notes, rubber bands, tacks, and thread.

"Landlady is not going to be happy about the holes he made," Tim commented.

Gibbs hummed in agreement.

"What are we looking at here, Boss?"

"I don't completely know," Gibbs said quietly, "Most of it isn't in English."

Tim went closer and realized that Gibbs was right. "It looks like Greek to me." He felt rather than saw the deadpan look his boss gave him. "No, I'm being serious. I recognize these characters from the Greek alphabet."

"Is it a code?" Gibbs asked.

"I assume so," McGee said, "Wouldn't know why the Staff Sergeant would know Greek." McGee started to rewrite each Greek letter with the English equivalent. "Although, it's not really good as a code, as anyone can just type it in a trans…" McGee trailed off. Okay, so maybe he was wrong.

"What, McGee?"

"It doesn't translate into anything when I turn the letters into the Latin equivalent. I'm going to have to look at them later, maybe enlist Abby's help."

Gibbs nodded, "Do what you have to. I need to know what he was on to." Gibbs tapped one of the post-it notes. Tim was grateful that it was in English, but immediately wished it weren't after reading it.

"Boss," Tim said in shock, "this… this just got way more serious."

"Could have always been this big, McGee," Gibbs told him, "It's just that we're finding that out now."

"If he was after the Sinaloa Cartel, then this case just got a whole lot bigger," Tim said.

Gibbs said nothing to that and kept observing the Sergeant's laid out thought process. He was pretty sure he heard Gibbs mutter something about doughnuts-wouldn't that be nice- as Tim ventured deeper into the apartment. He was pleasantly surprised that Kahale kept the place nice and tidy. Gibbs's phone started to ring.

"Yeah, what have you got, Abbs?"

Okay. Nice job, I'll let Tony and Ziva know."

Alright, well, who did he call?"

Thanks, Abby." Gibbs ended the call and immediately set into making another one.

As Gibbs waited, McGee figured this would be a good time to let him know what he found.

"Boss," Tim said, catching Gibbs's attention. "I've got his duffle and his gun, standard issue. He didn't take it with him. He's got some clothes in the drawers, nothing fancy but obvious that he was going to stay here for a while. I've got nothing other than that."

Gibbs nodded in approval.

It was obvious that the main focus was whatever it was that apparently had a connection to Mexican drug cartels.

Tim looked around in helplessness as Gibbs calmly waited for Tony or Ziva to pick up. He wished he could act so calm like Gibbs, but the idea of getting involved in the Mexican drug war made him really nervous. It may be wishful thinking, but McGee truly hoped Gibbs would let the DEA handle this.

-Αντώνης-

"No, Tony!" Ziva cried in frustration, "We are not getting into this."

"I am just saying," Tony pressed. "What if-"

"There is no 'what if,' Tony," Ziva interrupted. "It would be a solid 'No.'"

Tony sighed as he drove into the rental car area. Ziva was no fun.

Ziva chuffed. "Fine."

Oh! Hold that thought.

"You wouldn't get past the second date."

Tony parked the car and looked at his partner. "A lot could happen in two dates."

"She would only go on the second for the food," Ziva taunted and slammed the door.

Tony winced. Ouch. He stroked the dashboard, apologizing for Ziva's rough behavior, before joining Ziva outside.

"Now, don't go growling at the man," Tony said, referring to the businessman, "I've had enough of that."

Ziva chuckled, "Yes, as you told me."

"Well, it made a better story than what happened with you and Jackson- which am I the only one curious if Gibbs thinks of his father because of that?"

"Oh, come on, Tony. It is a simple, common name. I'm sure it hasn't even crossed Gibb's mind."

"Gibbs is a man with some deep-reaching thoughts," Tony informed, "You can never know what goes on in the deep abyss of the Gind."

"The Gind?" Ziva questioned.

"Gibbs's mind. 'The Gind,'" Tony explained. "I was thinking about 'Mibbs,' but that didn't-"

"Oh, stop!" Ziva demanded. "Just- just keep that to yourself. Honestly, who thinks of stuff like this?"

Tony was about to retort, but Ziva waved her hands in front of his face to stop him.

"No! Don't speak! Marko Tarsibo!" Ziva called.

There was some ruffling in the office before the man swaggered out. "Ah, agents! How good of you to stop by, again. Is the case sorting out?"

"We are making progress," Ziva answered.

"Oh, I am sorry," Mr. Tarsibo said, "But I do not believe we have been introduced. An Agent La Rue accompanied Agent DiNozzo before."

"Ziva David," Ziva said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Tarsibo."

"Please, call me Marko."

Well, wasn't he just delightful?

"We are going to need to see the video recordings of the time Michael Kahale was here," Tony said. He smiled. "Marko."

Something passed over the man's face. "Ah." He said. "I see. Unfortunately, policy does make me ask to see a warrant."

"If you insist," Tony said, "We can easily obtain one."

"We will also need to see video recordings of previous weeks," Ziva said.

Tony shot a questioning glance at her but played along. "We are trying to follow a couple of leads."

"Ahem," Mr. Tarsibo coughed, "Of course. That would be no problem. However, again, I will need to have a warrant."

"Alright then," Tony said, "We will be back with that for you."

He and Ziva made their way out.

"Boss isn't going to be happy about this," Tony groaned. He hated getting warrants.

"That's true," Ziva said.

Tony gave her a worried look. "Why did you ask for old video recordings?"

"I believe Agent La Rue's gut feeling was dot on."

"Spot," Tony corrected.

"What?"

"It's 'spot on,'" Tony educated, "not 'dot on.'"

"Oh, whatever!" Ziva rolled her eyes.

Hey! Not whatever! This was very important knowledge!

"Anyway," Ziva continued, ignoring Tony's mental rant, "He is definitely hiding something. Hopefully, we can find something useful on those tapes."

"Hold up," Tony said, stopping them in the middle of the parkway and bringing out his ringing phone, "It's Gibbs."

"Alright," Ziva consented.

Tony hesitated in answering. "He knows about the warrant. He's displeased."

"He cannot possibly know, Tony," Ziva said. "Now, answer it."

Tony prepared himself.

"Hi, Boss."

"DiNozzo, the car we found at the scene," Gibbs said.

"The beautiful, luxurious, red Maserati," Tony remembered. "What about it, Boss?"

"It was tampered with."

Tony frowned. "How do you mean?"

"The engine was modified so the car couldn't go as fast as it could."

Tony pressed the phone on his ear as the squeal of a car's tires sounded off nearby.

"Which means that our resident car renter tampered with the car that our dead Marine used."

"Bring him in," Gibbs ordered.

"Of cour-"

"Tony!" Ziva yelled. She tackled him, yanking him off the street. "Look out!"

As Tony stumbled and fell backward, he saw a black sports car speed past the spot where they were just standing. It screeched onto the main road and sped off.

Tony looked over Ziva to make sure she was alright. "I think your suspicions were just confirmed," he panted.

"DiNozzo!" The sound of Gibbs's voice came from the phone clutched in Tony's hand. "What's going on?"

Tony grimaced. There was going to be a lot of explaining to do.

"DiNozzo! Answer me!"

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[scarpool-gmk]

Epilogue

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Epilogue (13/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Abby searched around the smokey room. This was one of her favorite places to find all sorts of bits and bobs. It's where she found that epic wolf skull, the gorgeous black rose pillowcase that was currently laying in her coffin, and, of course, Bert. But this time, she wasn't here to get anything for herself. She spotted a couple boxes thrown in a pile. Weaving around the clutter, she made her way over. Each one was different but the swirly print of "Mythomagic" was printed on every one. So many choices! How could she choose? She started going through and reading descriptions.

"Do you need help?"

Abby's attention flashed to a small, pale boy who looked to be deeply regretting speaking at all.

"Yeah," Abby admitted. "It's for a friend. I am doing this for a local children's hospital. Getting stuff for some of the kids' birthdays. There's a girl that is really into card games like this. Do you know anything about this game?"

The boy hesitated for a moment before slowly opening up.

"If she's a beginner, go for the standard Olympian deck. It provides a good amount of basic instruction and application, sticking to the basics. It doesn't get complicated but still allows the player to make some flexible plays. The hero pack is way more complicated and is harder to customize, though an experienced player can really dominate using them. If the girl loves continuously long math problems, that deck is perfect. The expansion packs are for more experienced players looking for special customizations or who are playing challenges. I'd advise focusing on mastering the basics first, getting used to the standard packs."

Abby smiled. "You really know a lot about this game!"

The boy wrinkled his nose. "I used to play it when I was a kid."

"Well, thanks for helping me, um…"

The boy gave her a look-over. "It's Nico."

"I'm Abby. Thanks a bunch, Nico."

Nico twisted a jar in his hands. "It's no problem."

He shifted and, for a moment, Abby swore she something clipped to his side. It disappeared when he moved to leave. Her gut tingled.

"So, Nico," Abby said, feeling victorious when the boy turned back around to her, "What are you searching for in here?"

Nico lifted a brow and held up the jar. "I'm no longer searching."

Abby became genuinely interested. "What do you use that for?"

Nico's sigh sounded of defeat. "I'm looking for... a friend."

"They're lost?"

"He's always lost," the kid was quick to snark but recomposed himself with another glance at who he was talking to. "More like he's missing."

"And you think Misty's Freeze-Dried Tuna will help?"

His shoulders drooped. "It's a stupid idea," he said.

"Is he a dolphin or something?" Abby joked, trying to perk up the gloomy boy. Of course, you should never feed a dolphin Freeze-Dried anything.

Oddly enough, the boy looked to seriously consider it. "Well," he drawled, "If the shoe fits."

Abby thought about that. She guessed Sister Alba's laugh sounded Dolphin-like, especially when she got a strike. Still, Abby was confused. She jolted as her phone dinged. It was Tim. There was another case. Another body. She had to get back to headquarters.

She glanced back up. "It was good to meet you, Nico, and thanks again for helping me out. I hope you find your friend."

Nico shuffled to the door. "Thanks."

"And by the way, sweet Bomber."

Nico smiled and slipped out.

Abby stared at the closing door. Right there, as Nico left, she saw it. It was slid into a black sheath hanging on his hip. That kid was walking around with a three-foot-long sword!

-Ντόναλντ-

Ducky stared down at the poor man who now occupied the autopsy table. Gibbs would want answers soon. As Ducky worked on opening the body, he dutifully educated his young assistant.

"…Indeed, if troops would stay long enough in an area, it had the potential to grow into a village. Many modern villages- hold it steady, Mr. Palmer- in the Middle East are there because of U.S. forces. Troops provide protection and also quickly build secure, structured bases. If left- hand me the scalpel- long enough, the local population will start settling down, populating the area, and expand, making a place for themselves to stay. This isn't a new phenomenon. It has been happening- a clamp, if you would- since ancient times. In fact, many English cities are thought to have been created due to Roman Military camps, such as…" Ducky wavered.

Roman?

"Doctor?"

Ducky looked back at the tattoo on the victim's forearm. SPQR. Senātus Populusque Rōmānus. Could this man be?

"Doctor Mallard?"

Ducky blinked.

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Mr. Palmer. I was just thinking that- er- you should give these shrapnel pieces to Abigail."

"Now, Doctor? We aren't done with the procedure."

"I can handle it just fine, Mr. Palmer. Don't you worry. You know how Abigail gets. I don't want her rushing to call me for more work."

Jimmy chuckled, and Ducky forced one out, too.

Making sure that Jimmy was off in the elevator, Ducky hurried to his desk.

If his hypothesis was correct…

He went back to the body and made a small mark on the shoulder.

Oh, dear.

He examined the cut he made with the Celestial Bronze dagger.

He would have to tell Jethro. Immediately.

-Λέρωι-

Jethro got off the phone with Ducky. Hopefully, there wasn't anything supernatural related to the victim's cause of death. They would have to prepare for the possibility anyway. He sank in his chair. Wonderful.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied McGee loitering in the middle of the bullpen. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

"What is it, McGee?"

"Um, Boss?" Gibbs mentally shook his head. Tim really needed to outgrow his timidness. "I just got a new e-mail from- uh- Agent- er- Anne Lima."

Jethro snapped to attention. McGee jumped. "I just, you know, thought you should, well, be aware, and…"

Jethro opened his own e-mail. He had one, too. Jethro guessed she must have sent it to all four of them.

He was proven correct as Ziva said, "Gibbs, I've also been contacted." Tony responded in kind, too.

"McGee," Jethro interrupted the rambling, "Put it up."

"Right." McGee scrambled over and soon had the message up on the plasma.

There was a moment of silence as they all read.

"What do we do, Boss?" Tony asked.

Jethro looked at his team, all eyes on him and ready to follow his orders.

"We have a missing Agent. Find him."

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[scarpool-gmk]

3

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 3 (4/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Techno music blasted Annabeth's eardrums as she walked into the forensic lab.

'What do you got, Abbs?" Gibbs asked, his calm voice cutting through the music. He pressed a button on a remote a couple times, and Annabeth felt relief as the volume went down.

"Gibbs! You're finally here! So, I've heard, and you have to tell me all about the new-oh…" The bouncy forensic scientist suddenly became quiet when she saw Annabeth. "Hi," she said tersely.

Annabeth smiled, uncertain. What was up with this lady? "Hi," she responded a bit awkwardly. After a brief hesitation, she stuck her hand out and said, "I'm Anne." At the same time, the gothic scientist did the same with a simple, "Abby."

Annabeth forced a chuckle out and shook the woman's hand. "It's good to meet you, Abby."

"Yeah…hmmm…" Abby muttered, narrowing her eyes and exaggeratedly scrutinizing Annabeth's face.

"So," Annabeth said, eager to move on. "What do you have for us, Abby?"

That seemed to snap the lab rat out of it, but now she looked offended and turned her stare to Gibbs.

Gibbs, for his part, looked unconcerned and unbothered, if anything, just a bit amused. "Whatcha' got Abbs?"

Abby immediately sprang into action. "Okay. First, let me show you the slug that Ducky got me."

Annabeth did not miss the smug look on Gibbs' face.

Abby held up a case with a used bullet in it. "The bullet used was nothing special. I haven't found a match for the striations on our database, but I'm not done going through it, yet."

An enlarged and detailed picture of the slug popped up on the big screen along with some other specs. Annabeth focused in on the slug. That was the thing that killed her brother.

"So, we're looking for someone that owns a gun capable of firing a nine millimeter?"

"Yeah," Abby said, "But that is one of the most common bullet sizes, and I'll need to test the gun to match it. That is, once I start reconstructing it. For a common bullet such as this FMJ, I'll need to get every striation and marking down right."

"Okay," Gibbs responded, "What else you got? What was on the phone?"

"I haven't gotten to it yet, but it did help me with the model that I made." Abby brought up a program on her computer and displayed it on the big screen. There was a green digital man in an outline of a car. "Okay, so your Staff Sergeant was driving, and he was definitely on his phone." The green man on the screen dictated his actions along with Abby's words. "Then the car that was chasing him slides up next to him as we can tell from the skid marks from the crime scene." A blue man in his own car outlines shows up on the screen. "Now, get this. It's the driver that shoots him."

"The driver?" Gibbs confirmed, turning around to face Abby.

"Yeah," Abby said, "At that close of a distance between the two cars, if the shooter was in the passenger seat, there would be gun residue on the car. And using the specs, I was able to find the trajectory of the bullet."

There was a cartoonish bang, and a red line from the blue man's gun makes its way to the green man's head.

"Although this little guy didn't go all the way through the Sergeants head," Abby continued, "It went close enough to the other side that his phone, in all the commotion, hit him where the bullet was passing, and I got that from the traces of the metal of the slug on his cell."

"We need to know who he was calling," Gibbs said.

"I know," Abby said, "And it should be super simple, but I just need to wait until the charger comes in. His phone is, like, as old and standard as yours, Gibbs."

"You haven't been able to get a hold of his call records?" Gibbs asked.

"Ask McGee," Abby answered, "I tried getting through, but the service providers are being weird. McGee was working on getting it."

"It could be a burn phone," Annabeth suggested.

"If it is, it's definitely an annoying one," Abby huffed, "But what would the Staff Sergeant need a burner phone for?"

Gibbs shrugged and handed her the red, caffeinated drink that Annabeth just discovered a couple minutes ago. "Let's find out," he turned to leave, "Thanks, Abbs."

"Wait!" Abby exclaimed, "I'm not done."

Gibbs swiveled around. "What else you got?"

Abby smirked. "I can't believe you didn't notice."

"Notice what?" Gibbs asked.

Abby motioned to her table where a bunch of evidence laid about in bags. Annabeth's eyes widened. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed. It was just lying there!

"What am I looking at?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, this is good. I don't know what kind of voodoo it is laced with, but it took me a while of hard concentration after, like, two hours of pure Abby-gut feeling to actually figure it out."

"Abby," Gibbs said, impatiently.

"I'm telling you, Gibbs," Abby said, "Just look and find what you missed."

If Annabeth had been paying attention, she would have been amused by the small sigh of defeat Gibbs gave. But she was distracted. Her vision was locked on the weapon that she should have known would be on Michael's person. Searching him and the car for anything like this should have been a top priority. How stupid of her! Now she couldn't take it away without bringing any more suspicion on her or her team.

She was brought out of her mental scolding when her eyes met with the cold blue stare from Gibbs. She immediately looked away, but the damage was done. Gibbs had found what had captivated Annabeth's attention and picked up an evidence bag.

"That's one nice looking dagger," he said.

"Yeah," Abby said, hyped up, "It's like a relic, Gibbs. This thing should be in a museum. Not only that, but check out the specs of this thing."

Annabeth almost broke her neck to look at Abby, her mind running on double time. Specs? Did Abby test the dagger?! This was not good. Not that Annabeth wasn't curious, but she would rather not find out what Celestial Bronze was made out of from a group of mortals that would be best kept ignorant about the divine world.

"Gibbs, I'm pretty sure I just found orichalcum."

"Ori-what?"

"Orichalcum," Abby's smile couldn't have gotten any wider. "Gibbs, this is famous amongst historians and mythological enthusiasts. It's linked with ancient civilizations like the Romans, Greeks, and Atlanteans. Oh, I have always known Atlantis is real!"

As Abby drifted off, her mind taking her to another place, Gibbs and Annabeth both leaned in to get a look at the compositions which made up the Celestial Bronze dagger.

"Very high in copper," Gibbs said, "and also extremely high in…" He balked and turned back to look at the dagger again. "Is that gold?"

Abby snapped back to reality. "Yeah, it is. Orichalcum was labeled as a metal by these old civilizations, but it's really an alloy. Now, gold and copper are great and all, but what is this?"

Annabeth leaned in to read what Abby was referring to. "Thirty-three-point three percent of an… unidentified material?" Annabeth's mind was conflicted as she read aloud. On one hand, mortals weren't supposed to know about Celestial Bronze; it's why the mist obscured it to mortals, which was probably the reason that Abby and Gibbs had trouble with it. But on the other, this was so cool! The fact that Celestial Bronze was like a mix of bronze, having mostly copper with hints of lead, and of what historians label as orichalcum, mostly gold with silver and more copper, was extremely exciting. But this third, mysterious element was incredibly intriguing. Once this whole quest was over, she would have to figure out what divine element was mixed up in all this.

"Unidentified Material?" Gibbs repeated.

"Yup," Abby said, "And with that high of a percent rating, there is no doubt- that element has never been discovered before. Gibbs, I would kill to figure out what that material is, and I'm just saying that as an expression."

"You think he was killed for the dagger?" Annabeth asked, incredulous.

"Maybe not for it," Gibbs said, "but it's definitely related. Is that it, Abby?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Gibbs reached over to kiss her on the cheek. "Good job, Abbs."

"Thanks, Gibbs, I'll probably be in the garage working on the car next time you want to come talk with me."

"Alright. Lima! Come on."

Annabeth rushed to leave, thanking Abby and telling her it was nice to meet her.

"It was nice to meet you, too," Abby said. Except, it sounded really forced.

Annabeth heard the music being cranked back up to its original volume as she left. Was Abby like that all the time?

Annabeth shook herself from her thoughts. She had to stay alert and act professionally. "Should we go to autopsy next?" She proposed while heading for the stairs. "Let's see what Dr. Mallard has for us."

Gibbs tilted his head in a nod. "Lead the way, Agent."

-Σαμεσ-

"What do you think they're like?" Jimmy asked his mentor.

"Well, I think they are a group of trained, professional agents- no matter how young they might be."

"You've already said that, Doctor."

"Well," Dr. Mallard said impatiently, "What do you want me to say, Mr. Palmer?"

"Well," Jimmy stopped. What a good question… The hiss of the door opening saved him. And Jimmy turned to see who was coming into autopsy.

"Ah! Jethro!" Ducky called out. Jimmy didn't like how relieved he sounded. "And Miss Lima."

"Dr. Mallard," the woman greeted, "Mr. Palmer."

Jimmy raised his hand in greeting.

"Please, it's Ducky to my associates," Dr. Mallard insisted.

"Alright then, Ducky," Agent Lima responded.

Jimmy decided to join in as well. "I'm Jimmy. I would shake your hand but, ah…" he displayed his already bloody gloves.

The doctor shot him a disapproving glance.

'Nice going, Jimmy. Way to emphasize the blood and make things uncomfortable.'

But Agent Lima wasn't. She smiled at him, completely unfazed.

"So, what can you tell us, Duck?" Gibbs said. Jimmy was glad that he didn't get another one of Gibbs's stink eyes.

"Well," Ducky said, "For one thing, this young man was a fighter."

"I already know that, Duck," Gibbs said.

"Er- I don't think you know the extent," Ducky said. He motioned for Jimmy. "Now see along his body. He has a plethora of scars and wounds. The newest wounds are, of course, the impacts of the car crash, which occurred right after the time of death, but many are very old. Look at these scars along his arms and abdomen."

Jimmy lifted the victim's arms to help indicate what the doctor was talking about.

"Many of these were made by blades, but they were not self-inflicted. Some are new, while many more are years old. A large amount was highly treated, but a few were left for the body to deal with. During my biopsy, which, mind you, I have not officially completed yet, I found many injuries that were made at least a decade ago. This young man has seen much abuse and violence during his life; I would recommend talking to his guardians to look into such domestic abuse."

"Already on it," Gibbs said, "What about those scars on his back?"

"Ah- those are also most recent. Mr. Palmer, if you would help me."

"Of course, Doctor," Jimmy said, rushing to help turn the body over.

"You know, it reminds me of a case in my time in Afghanistan."

Jimmy smiled as his mentor went on a personal story, something which Jimmy loved listening to.

"Yes, one of the soldiers had taken to walking around late in the evening. One day, he came back with scars on his back. Turns out, he met a bear and had gotten too close. Yes, it was safe to say that he would stop his late-night walks." Ducky chuckled.

Jimmy smiled as he remembered a story of his own. "Yeah, I got my back scratched one time, too." Jimmy was flashed back to living in an apartment as he was in med school. "My roommate, he got a cat without telling me. I woke up one morning to find the cat on my back, and it really did a number on me, all the scratch marks. I think I still have some scars…" Jimmy smile waned as he remembered the pain and how ill he had felt that entire week. "Yeah, he and I got into a big argument because of how allergic I was…"

Jimmy came back to the present when Dr. Mallard cleared his throat. He found Agent Gibbs looking at him, unimpressed, and Agent Lima staring at the dead Staff Sergeant. She was probably pitying the Sergeant for having his terrifying scars be compared to Jimmy's cat story.

"Yes, except those scars, feline and ursine, would be considered mere scratch marks compared to these marks," Dr. Mallard continued. "I already sent some tissue samples to Abby, but she didn't find any clues to identify the tool used."

Gibbs frowned. Jimmy could sympathize. It was definitely odd. "You mean the wound was cleaned?" Gibbs asked.

"Em, possibly" Dr. Mallard replied, "While it would be interesting to find what chemical was used to clean it, there weren't any traces of acids or any other type of chemical. Yes, strange, indeed. Once I start autopsy, we'll be able to find if traces were able to seep further in, but I doubt it."

"What can you say about any of the newer injuries?" Agent Lima inquired, "Other than the claw marks on his back, were there any newer bruises or scrapes?"

"Actually, yes," Dr. Mallard answered, "And they all point to your Staff Sergeant being in a fight. He has bruising all on his knuckles and fingers, indicating he was up close with his attackers before getting into the car."

"He was being chased," Gibbs said.

"It would seem like it," Dr. Mallard agreed, "He even has a bruise on his elbow that suggests he was able to deliver quite a blow. But that was all. I should be able to glean some more from him once I start the procedure." He patted the body. "I'm sure he has much to tell us."

"Thank you, Ducky," Agent Lima said.

"Thanks, Duck."

"My pleasure," Dr. Mallard said. "Oh, and Jethro, taking the stairs, are you?"

Jimmy perked up at that. Was that why he didn't hear the elevator ding?

"It's only a floor down from Abby," Jimmy heard Agent Lima grumble.

Jimmy shared a glance with Dr. Mallard. Was she the reason Gibbs took the stairs?

-Αντώνης-

Tony looked at the screen. McGee told him that Abby said this thing was magical, and he could kind of see it. Apparently, she complained forever how the camera just would not focus on it. He tilted his head to follow the blurry, simple, swirly pattern on the blade. "You know it reminds me of that sword from Lord of the Rings," Tony said, "What was it, Fling?" That couldn't be right.

"Sting, Tony," McGee answered.

"Ah, thank you, McHobbit," Tony said.

"Anytime."

When Abby had sent the picture to McGee, he had put it on the big screen and read aloud her notes. Underwood got really nervous and started to ramble until La Rue harshly told him to shut up. He didn't know why she had called him Goat boy. Hopefully, it would be a fun story he could ask about. He probably shouldn't ask La Rue about it, though. Tony turned his head completely sideways. He had to agree with La Rue about one thing. This was a nice dagger.

"Looking for a new angle, DiNozzo?"

Tony immediately straightened. "Always, Boss."

"Well, what did you get from it?"

"Fingerprints, Boss," Tony said, "Abby called, telling us that the only fingerprints that were on the dagger were from Staff Sergeant Kahale."

"It was his dagger."

Tony cringed. Getting a sarcastic response from Gibbs is never a good thing. He motioned for McGee to hit the clicker.

"We went to the car renter, Boss. He was your typical car salesman, greedy, has a legal document in place for everything. He confirmed that Staff Sergeant Kahale was the one to rent the car. He also gave him a discount that he has for military personnel."

"Receipt says he paid in cash," La Rue inputted.

"Actually," McGee chimed in, "He was a cash user. He did have a bank account, but all of the transactions were deposits of his paycheck and cash withdrawals."

"He did keep some too. Some receipts from a bar were found on him," Underwood said. He walked up to McGee and pointed to the clicker. "Can I?"

Tony watched in shock as McGee handed it to him.

"Thanks. All came from a place called The Drowsy Owl. Started and owned by a Mr. Reshaun Sachs. One of those receipts places him grabbing a bite last night." A copy of the receipt showed on the screen and zoomed in, highlighting the time. "It was just a couple hours before the time of the crash."

"I called his C.O.," McGee said, grabbing the clicker back, "He said that Michael was not living on the ship while they were docked and had no idea where he was staying."

"But…" Gibbs encouraged.

"But there was a key with an ID code on him." McGee clicked, and a homepage website for an apartment complex came up on the plasma. "Grover called the landlord."

'Grover!?' Tony shot a bewildered glance at Ziva. She just smirked at him. Cheeky woman. What does she know?

"She told us that he paid in cash," McGee continued, "No surprises there. He had been there a couple of days and had told her he was planning on staying for about a week."

"She also said that he would leave early in the morning and come back really late at night, one time as late as two in the morning," Underwood-or "Grover"- said.

"Or as early as two in the morning," McGee joked.

"Eyyy!" Underwood laughed. He and McGee shared a high-five.

Something inside Tony broke. It was probably his heart for jokes.

Nobody was impressed. In fact, they all seemed offended that such a bad joke was uttered, but that didn't seem to bother the McGeek duo. The Undernerds.

"Agent David and Percy said that Mrs. Kahale told them that they did submit a missing persons report," Underwood said. McGee handed the clicker back over to him. "And it took a while, but Tim was able to find it."

'Tim!?'

"It was a collective effort," McGee corrected.

The form popped up on the screen.

"Looks completely filled out to me," Jackson observed, "Why didn't we find it originally?"

"Because they did not complete the entire process," McGee replied.

Underwood made the plasma screen zoom in on a particular part of the form. "See this information?"

"Name: Michael Kahale," Ziva read aloud, "Date of Birth: 03/15/88; Height: 4'5"; Weight: …"

"It's all old information," Gibbs said.

"Right," Underwood said, "It was never updated."

"They also never contacted the Center for Missing Kids, contacted Inspector General, or did anything else, Boss," McGee said. "They just filled out the form and never touched it again."

"Interesting," Ziva said, "They are lawyers. Shouldn't they, out of all people, know how to do this?"

"Well, Mrs. Kahale wasn't very fond of her stepson," Jackson mused.

Was he suggesting that the step-mother had something to do with it? Tony smiled. Yes! But Ziva was not having it.

"No, Tony. I don't think the wife was involved in any such way."

"You have to think outside the box, Ziva," Tony insisted.

"Oh, no. That idea is very much in the box- your box. Anyway," Ziva said, getting back on topic, "I called Mr. Kahale, and he sounded much more emotionally hurt and is eager to help us in any way."

"Well," Agent Lima said, "It is something to check up on in any case." She frowned. "Wait, Michael paid over seven hundred for the rental, then he is eating out every day, and he is also renting out an apartment. He did this all in cash? Where did he get all this money? Can you bring up the money transactions?"

"Sure," Grover said, pulling the list up.

The senior agent of the Long Island team looked at the list. "It doesn't make sense." She said all of a sudden. "From the amount that he took out, he could not make all those payments."

Woah, did she read all those numbers and figure it all out that fast?

McGee took a longer look at the numbers. "You're right!"

"So, how was he able to pay?" Jackson asked.

"Fake money?" Tony suggested.

Clarisse scowled, "That's disgraceful."

"If it is, then we have to check the cash that was used," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo head back to the car dealer. Take Ziva with you."

Tony held in a groan. Another road-trip. "On it, Boss."

"Percy and I will pick up Mr. Kahale and check up on the missing person case," Agent Lima said. "Clarisse and Grover will go to the bar."

Tony heard Underwood gulp. "We will?"

La Rue cracked her knuckles. "Got a problem, Goat boy?"

"N-no! Not at all."

Tony sympathized. Poor dude. La Rue was brutal.

Gibbs went around his desk to grab his gear. He slammed the drawer of his desk shut. "McGee, take us to the apartment."

Tony smirked as McClumsy scrambled to grab his gear. Looks like the teams weren't being paired up this time. Nice.

Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs all piled into the elevator and waited for McGee to catch up. The Long Islanders all opted to take the stairs.

McGee ran into the elevator in a mess and out of breath. "Sorry, Boss. I wasn't entirely prepared."

Gibbs nodded. The elevator doors closed. It wasn't long until Gibbs flipped the power.

'Finally.'

McGee flipped his laptop open, balancing it on his arms. He brought up the files of each agent.

"Agent Anne Lima, twenty-three, graduated top of her class from the University of California. She worked under law enforcement and was quickly promoted. She then moved to New York, where she became affiliated with NCIS. Again, she was quickly promoted as the base there is small, and they had an influx of agents join.

"Next up is Agent Percy Jackson. He is also twenty-three. He graduated from the University of Albany. Apparently, Agent Lima handpicked him to be a part of her team. She said that she saw great potential in him and that he had valuable skills to add to her team."

Ziva scoffed lightly, "Well, he did not add much when we went to visit Mrs. Kahale. He did not help me question or console her, which, in truth, she did not need any consoling." Ziva's expression lightened, "However, he did mention seeing a dagger by the front door."

"A dagger? Like the one we found with Michael Kahale?" McGee asked.

Ziva, for the first time ever, looked sincerely embarrassed. "I do not know. I did not see it. If it was there, then it evaded my attention quite successfully."

"Wow," Tony teased, "Guess those Mossad skills are getting rusty."

"It's because I hang around you so much, Tony. I do learn from others, you know. Maybe, I should stop."

'Ouch,' Tony quipped to himself, once again praising Ziva wittiness. But no way would he, Anthony Dinozzo Jr., be outdone by a probie. "Oh? So, you do look up to me then. But just to let you know, my skills can't be acquired by such simple means."

"Really?" Ziva sarcastically asked, nodding in a mocking show of attention.

"Yeah," Tony said, matter-of-factly, "It's a family trade, and- Ng!"

Tony sheepishly looked at his boss, who still had his hand up from giving a brand-spanking-new Gibsslap. "Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs then turned to give a scolding look at Ziva. "How come she doesn't get Gibsslapped?" Tony grumped to himself.

Ziva put her hands up in surrender. "I am sorry," she said, "I will stop encouraging him."

Gibbs gave her a slap on the head. Ziva made a face. "Starting now," she added.

Feeling immensely better at the judgment that just played out, Tony let a smile split his face and let Ziva be graced by its presence. He saw her eye twitch in annoyance, but otherwise, she didn't react.

Gibbs nodded to McGee.

"Next is Agent Clarisse La Rue. She is twenty-eight and from Arizona. She spent a year at a community college there before finishing up her degree at American University. She then moved north, becoming a cop. She eventually ended up applying for NCIS and getting the spot there. She specializes in all sorts of combat styles and weapons."

"Yes, she is just a wonderful person," Tony said. "I couldn't get anything out of her, Boss. She is one tough cookie."

"And then we have Agent Grover Underwood."

"Why don't you just call him Grover, McFriendly?" Tony asked.

"He is a really nice guy once you get to know him, Tony."

"Really?" Tony quirked his eyebrow, "You are on first-name basis, and you showed him the ways of the clicker."

"It's not that hard, Tony," McGee droned out, "All it takes is a little practice."

"That thing is sentient, and you know it. You need to gain its trust or be able to evilly manipulate it," Tony maintained.

McGee just sighed and continued on. "He is twenty-six, Alumni of University of Albany just like Jackson, and has been in NCIS the longest. However, he was not doing so well. He kept failing many assignments. This changed when he joined Lima's squad. He was actually promoted to being a senior agent under her group."

"Wait," Tony interrupted, "He's not the probie? He is actually the veteran NCIS agent of the group?"

"Yeah," McGee responded, "Agent Jackson is actually the probie."

"Wow," Tony muttered, "That is something."

"Yes, in fact, Grover was the mentor to Agent Lima and Agent Jackson, before Agent Lima ultimately surpassed him."

"Jackson did say that he and Underwood went to the same school," Ziva said.

"What else did you get from him?" Gibbs asked

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Ziva said, "He made a connection about his mother, and that was the main topic. He and I recounted stories about our mothers. Her name is Sally Jackson. She is an aspiring novelist. Percy's favorite color is blue, and so his mother tried to make as much of his food blue when he was young. Apparently, she makes delicious blue chocolate cookies even now."

"Wow," Tony said, "Blue food…" He tried imagining it. "You know blue cookies look kind of appetizing. I don't think I would try blue pizza, though."

Gibbs had switched the power back on while Tony was speaking. As they all got off and went to their respective cars, Tony heard Gibbs ask McGee, "So, what's this about the service provider?"

Tony did not envy McGee's position of being privately questioned by Gibbs. He looked at Ziva. Hopefully, their car ride would be much better.

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Godly Marine: Killed

Fanfiction Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Actium Scarpool Illustrator: Lane2London Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, Clarisse La Rue, Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, Ziva David, James Palmer, Leon Vance, Donald Mallard, Abigail Sciuto Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A Words: 45053 Status: Complete

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 - Part 1 Chapter 6 - Part 2 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue

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Prologue

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, Clarisse La Rue, Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, Ziva David, James Palmer, Leon Vance, Donald Mallard, Abigail Sciuto Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Prologue (1/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Headlights flashed brightly on a deserted street. Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale was driving a red Maserati GranTurismo 40 mph over the speed limit, fear taking over him. He panted heavily, and his vision focused on random things. The dashboard told that it was 1:12 A.M. Outside, beasts howled in their hunt, and a car was tailing him. His hands shook as he fumbled for his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Come on, come on. Pick up!"

"Um, h-hello?" A groggy voice asked.

"Annabeth!"

"Michael, is that you? What's wrong, your voice..."

"Annabeth, help them!"

"Where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm in D.C., and I don't have time. I trust you. Just don't blame-"

The driver cursed as the sports car plowed over the curb.

"Michael? You're not making sense. What's happening?"

"I'm-"

Tires screeching cut him off. A gunshot.

The red Maserati crashed into a lamp post. The airbags deployed but were destroyed and joined the wreckage. The cell phone tumbled on the passenger seat, and blood sprinkled on its screen. A car zoomed away.

"Michael, what was that? Michael? Michael!"

Chapter List Next Chapter

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9

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 9 (11/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Things were not going to plan. Which, as it so happened, was a plan. It just wasn’t her preferred choice. Luckily, she had yet to die from a series of going through with her boyfriend’s particular style of improvisation.

Annabeth cursed when an arrow clipped her side. She fell for cover.

“Annabeth!” Grover cried.

She waved him off. “Keep playing. I’m fine.”

Her friend was obviously apprehensive but obeyed, nonetheless. Annabeth winced as she felt her side. Painful as it was, it was not something to worry about. She pressed on it. The cut would heal quickly.

She reassessed their situation.

There was a horde of monsters and bad guys armed with close to long-range weapons. They were cornered and were using the mortals’ vehicle as cover. Although Annabeth determined that given the chance, the mortals would take the car to get the Hades out of here, she knew it would be bad if they lost their source of cover.

Annabeth slipped the magazine from her gun. Oh, and they were running out of bullets, too. Fast.

There was a shadow of a figure trying to edge around the SUV. Annabeth took aim, and as soon as the dracaena jumped out, Annabeth fired. Right between the eyes. The monster crumpled to the ground, but not without firing their own gun.

There was a pop! And the side mirror shattered. They all ducked their heads to avoid the glass shards.

“This isn’t working,” Clarisse said, brushing pieces of glass off her arm. “What are we doing behind here?”

“It’s a stalemate,” Annabeth said, making sure nothing else was trying to follow the dracaena’s example. “Right now, we are just waiting for something to change.”

“Waiting for Percy, you mean.”

Annabeth shot at a circling harpy but missed. She sighed. “That or we use up all our bullets.”

Clarisse muttered a curse. “This would be easier if we could see them, these tinted windows are useless.”

Annabeth looked at the broken side mirror. ‘It would be easier if we could see them…’

Picking up one of the large pieces of glass, Annabeth rotated it to get a view of the scene.

She noticed one of the mortals was lying on their stomach, trying to spot a potential shot from underneath the car. That was quite smart. Except that the monsters kept getting in his way. Annabeth wondered how many times he had been in a similar situation.

“They’re playing the waiting game, too,” she noted. Annabeth spotted the woman speaking roughly to a group of telkhines who were awkwardly holding assault rifles. “I don’t think the mortals are thrilled with their ride being caught in the crossfire.”

A sudden commotion caused Clarisse to snatch the glass out of Annabeth’s hand. Her affronted complaints of ‘Find your own!’ went ignored.

Grover gulped. “Are they charging?”

“From inside!” A man said.

“Mortalssss!” A dracaena hissed.

That must be Percy and Gibbs’s team! Annabeth pressed against Clarisse’s side to see.

A couple of Harpies had curiously swooped down low, and a couple monsters turned towards their new assailants, exposing their backs.

Clarisse brandished her spear and grinned at Annabeth. Now was the moment they were waiting for.

Clarisse leapt out, spear crackling, and gutted five of the nearest monsters in seconds. Annabeth followed close by.

Dodging bullets and arrows is no fun. But adding on weaponized monsters and dive-bombing harpies is utter Hades.

Annabeth paused to knife a telekhine in the chest and almost had a bullet replace her left eye. She drowned in the sound of pumping blood. She dived down and let loose the last of her shots only to be forced to roll her way to cover lest she be riddled in holes.

Annabeth paused for a second to get her hearing back to normal. A couple breaths later, she realized that she left Clarisse out there. Scrambling up, Annabeth didn’t even pause to think as she exposed herself to the fight.

Clarisse was thankfully not dead but fighting another four monsters.

“You!” She frothed, and it took a moment to realize that the daughter of Ares was talking to her. “Get your butt back under cover!”

Annabeth’s mouth opened to argue back on instinct.

A dot of copper flew towards Clarisse at lightning speed. With a twist of her arm and hands, the spear whirled into a blur. The monster in front of her lost its dog-head, and the dot burrowed into the ground.

Clarisse glanced at Annabeth, her beady eyes dark as coal.

Annabeth went back behind the car and leaned against it.

Clarisse had just blocked a bullet with her spear.

Annabeth slid down. She replayed the scene in her head and groaned as the world tilted. For some reason, that made her woozy.

She rubbed her head and frowned.

Annabeth looked at her hands. Were they always this red?

…

Oh.

-Ζήβα-

This was a mess. It was quite the miracle that they had gotten out of the building without being shot. The back exit was a narrow passage that would have ensured their doom if anyone from the outside had just shot at random. Thankfully, that did not happen as something had taken the enemy’s attention. Or, rather, someone. Clarisse La Rue, and that was her real name, was surrounded by beings that looked to have been assembled by a drunk. They were creatures with flippers for hands and canine muzzles for heads, what could only be described as snake-people, and banshees with bright wings attacking from above. Clarisse was alone amongst them. And she was menacing.

Ziva felt the hair on her arm rise from the thrum of energy as Clarisse spun her spear, spearing a creature. There was a brief, blue spark, and the monster turned to dust. Ziva shivered. What was that?

Percy ran to Clarisse’s aid.

“Took you long enough,” Clarisse told him and shoved him aside. “This is my spot. Find your own.”

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy asked.

Movement from the black SUV caught Ziva’s eye. “Gibbs,” she called. It was Underwood, and he was dragging a bloody, pale body.

Jackson saw it, too. “Annabeth? Annabeth! No!”

A wild slash sliced three opponents in half. Ziva’s mouth went dry. They were half a meter away from his sword.

He let out a scream, and the earth responded.

Ziva’s ears popped as the air pressure fell, and the wind rose. The ground beneath them shifted, and suddenly there was water everywhere, flooding the place. La Rue jumped on the hood of the SUV, a manic gleam in her eye as she pointed her spear to the water. The tip was on fire. Was she hoping to put it out or some-

Besides her, Tony cursed, and Ziva quickly followed suit. Tony grabbed her, and together they pushed Gibbs and McGee back inside the building.

They barely made it.

La Rue plunged her spear down. Like it was alive, the water surged and crackled. The air filled with smoke and clouds of familiar golden dust. The ground rumbled in the water’s wake.

Ziva stared, and someone gasped. It could have been her. It could have been all of them.

This was devastating power. Most of the horde was gone, the rest scattered, and Ziva realized that if they hadn’t made a run for it, they could have easily been bycatch.

But they weren’t the only ones to have dived inside for cover.

One of the gunmen had joined them. For a moment, nobody moved. Then, Ziva made eye contact.

He made a run for it.

“Got him!” Ziva shouted in warning as she gave chase. She saw the man fumble with a handgun at his hip, and she dived. The gun was flung to the side as they fell to the ground.

Ziva struggled to maintain her place on top and tried to grab his flailing arms while searching for her cuffs. A knee to her shin threw off her balance, and she was easily pushed off. She quickly jumped back up as the man did the same.

Not giving the man the chance, she struck first.

Ziva punched the man in the face. His head jerked back, bloody. Ziva shot another punch, but the man stumbled to the side and grabbed her arm. Ziva twisted around, bringing the arm close, forcing the man’s arm to bend uncomfortably. She kicked behind his knee. The man grunted in pain, but his grip was vicelike. He went in for her head with his other hand. She ducked at the last second. He quickly brought his arm down, and Ziva hissed as his elbow struck deep in her shoulder. Ziva wasted no time in grabbing the bronze knife at her side and thrusting it into the man’s chest. It went straight in. Ziva stared. No, not in. Through.

Suddenly, she doubled over. The air was forced from her lungs as pain exploded in her stomach. She saw the knee coming but wasn’t quick enough. She saw spots shield her vision, and she heard a crack. Ah, that would be her nose. Hands fisted on her shoulders. She cried out when her back slammed against the wall. The hand on her left shoulder left, and, after a beat, she instinctively tilted her head right.

She heard a sickening noise and a loud curse. She twisted and slashed a palm at the jugular, freeing herself. She took a couple of steps back, putting space between them. She swiped her arm over her brow. The man suddenly relaxed and waved at her.

What?

“Watch out!” She was yanked back, pulled by her shirt. She stumbled back but used the momentum to send a whirling kick. Underwood ducked, and her leg flew over his head. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back, just in time for the beaten-up SUV to plow passed them.

What was it with these people and trying to run her over?

The car swerved to a stop, and the back door opened. Ziva breathed a few choice words under her breath.

The man hopped in and grabbed the rifle that was on his seat. Ziva went to move out of the way and get under nonexistent cover, but Underwood was already on it. He set his reeds to his lips and played a fast jig. Trees sprung into existence from the empty ground. There were a couple pops as the man’s shots hit bark until the engine revved. The beat-up SUV sped away.

Ziva looked at the tree, then at Underwood, then at his shoeless hooves.

“Uh, thanks.”

“D-don’t mention it.”

Ziva nodded. “So, a satyr, huh. Aren’t you supposed to have horns, too?”

Grover flushed and patted down his mass of curly hair.

Ziva just nodded again. Yup, that completed the picture. It was odd but, she felt at ease with how, uh, unsurprised she was. She’ll think about it later. Probably when the shock kicks in. She turned back to the rest of the action. Right. Sounds good.

Gibbs and McGee knelt around Chase. Tony stood by Jackson’s side, wary and watchful. Clarisse stood proudly in a puddle of muddy water, vauntingly staring down the remaining creatures.

“It’s over Botsaris,” Clarisse yelled. “Give it up, and you’ll have an easier trip to Tartarus.”

Botsaris dusted yellow dust off his navy suit and checked his cufflinks before lifting his chin. “You’re right about that. My trips to Tartarus will never be easier. The mother is waking, and soon you’ll be destroying yourselves. My courage will continue to grow stronger. This is not over until I say it’s over.”

“Then decide that now.”

Ziva almost jumped at Gibbs’s voice.

He stared steadily at Botsaris.

“You lost most of your men and are outnumbered. No one else needs to get hurt.”

“Hurt? You mortals have suffered the most at the hands of the gods these demigods pledge their loyalty to. Countless of your lives have perished on their account. Manhattan and San Francisco being the most recent events.”

Manhattan and San Francisco? Ziva thought of any news from those cities. Right. A couple of months ago, there was massive panic all around Manhattan. There were tons of garbles reports and calls and strange accounts, especially surrounding the Empire State Building. It was written off as mass delusions and hysteria brought on by…what did the report say again? Whatever it was, it had obviously covered up the truth.

“We will take care of them,” Gibbs said. “Now, put down your weapons.”

A dog-faced creature by Botsaris’s side snarled low and long. Behind her, Ziva heard rumbling hisses.

Botsaris smirked. “No. We are not finished yet.”

“Ziva, Tony; keep your eyes on him,” Gibbs ordered. “McGee, Underwood; get her to safety. Jackson, La Rue; stay close.”

Whatever was coming was close.

“I’ll handle the back.”

“Yes,” Botsaris nodded, “Good luck with that. Get them, Tommy!”

‘Tommy?’ Who the f-

“RAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!”

Botsaris smiled a hundred-watt smile.

Gibbs’s voice cut through the confusion. “Drop!”

Ziva hit the dirt, and she registered Tony doing the same. Just in time, too. A massive set of jaws snapped and hissed its way right above them so fast and powerful, it felt as there were several of them. Ziva curled up and protected her head as chunks of debris and dirt were kicked into the air.

She scrambled up to her feet once she felt the ground literally tremble with their new enemy’s landing. Again, she felt her chest freeze.

“Great. Large, sharp teeth,” Tony panted. “I can’t get enough of them.”

Ziva forced air into her lungs. The absolute monstrosity was a huge legged serpent with five, extremely hungry and angry looking heads. Indeed, all five have pristine rows of teeth the size of her arm and sharpened to maximum lethality.

Somehow stuck on the middle neck of the beast was a tag with, ‘Hi, I’m Tommy!’

Ziva was thrown back in time. Sandy hair, hazel eyes- no, not hazel. They were slithering and emerald green, like those of the five-headed serpent monster in front of her.

No. There was absolutely no way the boy and this monster was one and the same. ‘Number 39,’ some part of her brain that sounded suspiciously like Gibbs monotoned, ‘There is no such thing as a coincidence.’

Ziva lifted her gun. Plant feet. Stabilize. Steady arm. Aim. Breathe.

“Take it!”

Ziva shot two bullets in one glazed eye. The beast snarled, and ten green orbs shined with loathing.

The monster gurgled.

Clarisse cursed. “Scatter!”

Ziva rolled closer to the wall of the building. One of the heads spat an arc of putrid looking liquid that shot right down the middle of the street. The ground and random rumble began to disintegrate.

Percy brandished his sword in a practiced whirl.

“Clarisse, how do you feel about beating a Hydra with me, again?”

Clarisse flicked something off her spear.

“’With you, again?’ I did all the work last time, barnacle brain.” She looked at Ziva and Tony. “We’ll deal with the Hydra. You deal with Botsaris and friends.”

Ziva and Tony nodded.

The Hydra sprayed another jet of acid, and the four jumped into action.

-Τιμοτηψ-

“Hey!”

Timothy ripped his eyes from the fight.

“Focus,” Gibbs said, as he finished wrapping Lima’s abdomen.

“Sorry.”

“She’s lost consciousness from loss of blood,” Gibbs said. “Lift her feet. Get her out of here. I’ll cover you.”

Grover followed the instructions, and with Tim taking care with Lima’s head, they waited for the signal.

Gibbs watched the fight for just a moment.

“Go, go, go!”

Keeping low, they made their way out of the backstreet. Stray bullets hit the ground around them.

Tim instinctually looked to the fight. Ziva and Tony were leading the firefight with Botsaris and his flippered friends.

Jackson and La Rue were taking on the five heads. The way they moved around each other and anticipated the serpents’ attacks, reacting with such speed, was captivating. They were amazing. But it wasn’t working. Although it seemed like they were avoiding it if they could, the heads kept being cut off. It would have been reassuring if two more didn’t keep replacing them.

Something tugged on Tim’s sleeve.

“Fire,” Lima croaked.

“Lima!” Tim exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

The group quickly made it to the other side of the street, finally getting to a bullet and monster free zone.

“Annabeth!” Underwood scrambled over, digging into his pockets. “You need ambrosia. Now!”

‘Ambrosia?’

Lima-er, Annabeth ignored her partner and focused on Tim.

“They need fire to defeat it.”

Tim remembered a class at the beginning years of college. “To kill the Hydra, they need to burn the heads after cutting them off.”

Annabeth nodded.

Tim looked at the monster’s base. If he could find something in there…

“Boss.”

“What, McGee?”

“It’s a Hydra. We need something to cauterize the flesh. Without it, every time they cut a head off, it’ll keep duplicating. I think I may be able to find something in the Doughnut store, but-“

“You can kill it?” Gibbs interrupted.

“I- I think so.”

“Go.”

Tim left Annabeth to Grover’s care and rushed back into the fast-food joint. Winding up in the kitchen, Tim started opening cabinets at random.

“Fire. Fire. Fire,” Tim repeated.

Oh, God. If he couldn’t kill a monster dog, how was he supposed to kill something that was bigger, stronger, and had a lot more teeth?

He leaned on the counter and buried his head in his hands.

“Okay, Tim. Just calm down. You can do this. You need fire to kill a mythical immortal being that’s trying to eat your friends.”

He searched his pockets and placed a lighter down.

Hmmm, a good start, but…

He stared at it for a moment.

“I’m going to need a bigger fire.”

He turned in a circle and spotted a fire extinguisher. An idea formed. That could work.

He cleared some space. First step: Always have a clean, organized work area. Second. He grabbed the fire extinguisher. Gather all materials needed.

Tim searched the kitchen and found a valve from some sort of pressure cooker, a pressure pump from another machine, paper napkins, tape, a screwdriver, and oil. Bottles and bottles of oil. Tim frowned. But it was all Olive Oil. So, he went to the coffee maker instead and took all the little plastic packs of creamer powder.

Checking off his mental list, Tim moved on to finally working on his project.

He uncapped the fire extinguisher and dumped the contents in a trash bag, coughing when the powder flew in his face. Although washing the excess out with water would have been preferred, Tim couldn’t risk getting the inside of the tank wet. Not when he was using a dry substance.

Next, he needed to puncture the tank to fit the valve.

He laid the tank down on the racks of a conveyor belt and used one of its levers to clamp it down. He brought the screwdriver up, aimed, and struck down.

“Ack!” Tim dropped the screwdriver and hugged his reverberating arm close. He flexed his hand and took a sharp intake of breath. Not good. He looked at the fire extinguisher for any sort of mark. Nothing.

Shoot! What was he supposed to do now? Something on the floor caught his eye.

It looked like… ah. This was one of the teeth that was trying to snap the team in half before Jackson came to the rescue. What was it doing here? But more importantly- Tim glanced back at the screwdriver- would it puncture the red tank?

There was only one way to find out.

Grabbing the tooth, Tim was surprised to find it was lighter than it looked, but it was as sharp as he remembered. Before striking the tank again, Tim had a thought. He grabbed the screwdriver. He should probably hammer the tooth in, instead of destroying his arm as he did before. Holding the tooth steady against the fire extinguisher, Tim brought the screwdriver up and used the handle to slam on the tooth.

Tim struck once and twice. On the third hit, he almost lost hold of the tooth as he suddenly lost resistance.

Tim lifted the tooth and gawked at the hole he had made.

Woah! What the hell was this thing made of? Tim was really glad the hellhound hadn’t wrapped its jaws around anyone. Even bulletproof vests wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Plugging in the valve, Tim started to fill the tank with creamer powder. Once he was done, he would pump the pressure in, attach a napkin to a rod and tape that to the tank.

Hopefully, everyone was still okay out there. Tim cut another batch of coffee powder packs open. If they were, he prayed that his makeshift weapon worked.

-Περσεύς-

“Percy! Stop cutting the heads off!”

“Geez, I’m sorry! If you would stop trying to stab me, maybe that would happen!”

“It’s your own fault! You’re too close to it!”

Percy’s blood boiled. He began to snark back but saw two younger-looking heads coming at him for a Percy-tasting snack. He rolled out of the way from one head and used his sword to deflect the second one coming from behind. Percy felt his sword slice through monster flesh. Shoot. Why was it that every other monster had tough skin, while this one was as susceptible as an army knife through butter?

Percy backed away as the stump started to stitch back together. A ball of flames appeared. With a ‘Fumpf!’, the neck burned and blackened. The other heads hissed at the loss of their brethren and turned to stare at the new attacker.

Agent McGee held a fire extinguisher aloft, and the heads swarmed around him. Every time he moved the tank, they backed away and tried another route.

“Percy! Be useful and keep cutting the heads off!”

Percy resisted the urge of snarling right back at Clarisse’s pug face and focused on hacking away.

It was amazing how much easier it was to handle a Hydra with a flamethrower at their disposal. The Hephaestus cabin probably had a few in their stockpile. Percy should probably look around their workshop, again. The Hydra was soon just a pile of dust.

“A fire extinguisher turned flamethrower,” Tony noted, joining them. “Nice work, McGee.”

“We are not in the clear yet.” Ziva motioned to Botsaris and his small entourage. “Our guns may not be as effective, but they are certainly made for hands and not…whatever they have.”

“Flippers,” Percy supplied helpfully, watching as the monsters fumbled with the rifles they had dropped, “and, uh, snake arms?”

Botsaris rolled his eyes. “Ugh.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Why do I continue to accept green recruits? Fight them, you fools!”

Clarisse stomped her way towards the trembling group of telkhines and dracaenae. She dealt with them so quickly, Percy almost felt bad for them. Clarisse ended with her spear point by Botsaris’s neck.

“You are done, Markos Botsaris.”

“It’s not over while I’m still on this plane, mortal.”

Clarisse sneered. “Such courage for someone who had his comrades take the hits for him.”

Botsaris lifted his chin. “You have seen little of what I have done with my battle-strength and bravery. My courage is of a spirit hardened enough to make my mother proud.”

“Your mother?”

“Alke, the spirit of Courage itself.”

Percy never heard of her, but Clarisse perked up. “Isn’t she displayed on the shield, Aegis?”

Botsaris’s smile disappeared. “Yes, she is. The Gods offended greatly, belittling my mother to a gorgon. Without her, your arrogant father would be nothing more than a whimpering mess.”

Clarisse swung her spear with a yell. The son of Alke ducked and rammed his shoulder into her. Percy drew Riptide up and struck down. Botsaris blocked with a knife and circled Percy close, forcing Percy to step back out of the fight.

For a breath of a second, no one moved.

Botsaris came at them like lightning. Percy felt his instincts take over once again. He dodged and jabbed, but Botsaris was on a completely different level than the run-of-the-mill monsters he kept by his side. Even the Hydra with its acid and multiple, regenerating heads just did not compare to the craftsman of expertise.

Percy was vaguely aware of Clarisse and the two agents fighting beside him. As much as he loved Riptide, going against a skilled knifeman was tricky with a sword. He had a bad feeling about what could have happened if Agents Ziva and DiNozzo weren’t there to fight knife with knife. They were trained federal agents. There was no way Botsaris could win against them.

Tony hit the dirt.

Okay, maybe he could. Percy moved in, but the girls had him covered. Clarisse spun her spear like a staff, locking Botsaris’s arms. Ziva’s fist collided with his face resulting in a solid ‘Crunch!’

Botsaris’s usual perfect face distorted, either by pain or from the physical impact of the punch, Percy couldn’t tell. His face scrunched into something similar to a deformed pumpkin and roared. He slashed at the mortal agent, and in one swift motion, he was disarmed, and Ziva’s celestial knife carved through his chest.

Botsaris’s eyes went wide in shock. “You… mortal... impossible...”

He collapsed to dust in Ziva’s arms.

Ziva stared at the sand. “Where do they go?”

Clarisse went up to help brush her off the monster dust.

“Tartarus,” Percy said, “He’ll be there until he climbs back out.”

“He’ll be back?”

“Monsters don’t really die,” Percy said, “They just respawn.”

“What’s Tartarus like?” Tony asked.

Percy shrugged. “Never been. I hope I never do.”

He looked at McGee. “Annabeth. How is she? Where is she?”

“This way.”

McGee led them away. Annabeth was sitting, propped up on the wall with Grover and Agent Gibbs beside her.

“Annabeth!”

“Hey, Seaweed Brain. Thanks for helping them, McGee.” She tilted her head. “Is that a fire extinguisher?”

McGee lifted his makeshift weapon. “Extinguisher turned producer.”

“Really saved our skins,” Percy said.

“But what about you?” McGee asked. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks.” Annabeth lifted her bloodstained shirt. “All healed up.”

“But-but you were- “

“They have pretty effective medicines,” Gibbs said.

“Like what?” Tony said. “I see a lot of blood.”

“Ambrosia,” Grover explained. “Food of the gods.”

“’Gods,’” Ziva mumbled, touching her neck.

“’Food,’” Tony mirrored, rubbing his stomach.

“Won’t work for you, though,” Annabeth said, “It will literally burn you up.”

“Good to know…”

“Is the Hydra gone?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah,” Percy said. “Botsaris and his group of monsters, too.”

“The humans were able to flee.” Ziva was transfixed on how the blade of the celestial bronze knife slipped through her arm like it wasn’t even there. “At least, I assume they were human.”

Annabeth hoisted herself up. “They were part of the Reynosa Cartel.”

“They were here for ‘Rovers,’ but I doubt they’ll be back for business,” Percy said.

“Especially with NCIS involvement,” Annabeth said.

Tony chuckled. “And let’s not forget your involvement, too.”

“The case is closed,” Annabeth said, “I’m sure you got Michael’s killer, didn’t you?”

Gibbs nodded. “We have a lot to talk about, Ms. Annabeth Chase.”

Previous Chapter Chapter List Next Chapter

[scarpool-gmk]

8

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 8 (10/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

The ride to Botsaris’s get-a-way car was done as quickly as possible. Clarisse had grouched about Annabeth being driver and stole Percy’s claim to riding shotgun out of spite.

Typical.

For the demigods, getting out of the office couldn’t have come fast enough. Grover, however, had doubts.

“Are you really okay leaving now? They’re going to question Michael’s family. Shouldn’t we be there? It might help us in the case.”

Clarisse cracked her knuckles. “It might end it.”

Annabeth sighed. “The others will take care of it. They will find Michael’s killer.”

Clarisse stared at her. “You’d let the mortals completely take over the investigation?”

“Our priority is to make sure we are the ones to find General Botsaris and Monster Donuts.”

“Wait a second,” Percy said. “I thought the quest was to find out who killed Michael.”

“The more important objective is to find out what Michael was digging up,” Annabeth said. “Based on Michael’s notes, there is a huge monster threat here.”

“A-and you want to upset it?” Grover asked.

“That’s what your brother did,” Clarisse said, “And I’m not overly fond with the idea of turning out like him.”

“Hey!” Percy glowered at her. “Not cool.”

“Use the kelp in your soggy head, barnacle boy,” Clarisse growled. “We’ll be in their territory. We’ll be outnumbered and out armed. Michael said they were arms dealing with Mexican Cartels, which means they’ll have guns. We can’t be sure they’ll be stocked with celestial bullets, so we’ll be the ones with the holes, not them.”

“Then we shouldn’t rush in there,” Percy said. “We’ll need a plan.”

He looked at Annabeth expectedly.

Annabeth stayed silent, focusing on making a left turn.

“Um, w-we do have a plan, right?” Grover stuttered.

Annabeth took a breath. “Of course. It’s simple. We sneak in and do some reconnaissance. We keep quiet. In and out.”

Annabeth looked at Clarisse and Percy like they would be the most trouble to her plan.

‘In and out, low profile,’ Percy thought. ‘I can do that.’

“And making sure the mortals get the killer?” Clarisse said. “If it was actually a monster who killed Michael, what do you plan?”

Annabeth glanced at her. “I’m sure it was a mortal. They are seasoned investigators. We are not. We should let them do their jobs. We must do ours.”

“You trust them?” Clarisse asked.

“I do. So should you.”

Percy looked between them and decided to change the topic. “What did Chiron say about Rodriguez?”

It was the wrong thing to bring up. Annabeth scowled. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“He wanted me to hand over all of the IDs and footage we got. He wants to tell the families.”

“Sounds alright to me,” Grover said.

Percy saw Annabeth’s grip on the wheel tighten as her scowl deepened. He leaned forward and placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Percy felt better as she relaxed a little to the touch. “I’ve known him for too long. He was dismissing my questions. Avoiding giving answers. It’s not like him to hide important information.”

Percy scoffed.

“At least, not with me,” Annabeth added.

“Are you going to let him do that?” Clarisse asked.

“Sure.”

Clarisse narrowed her eyes at her.

Annabeth smirked. “But he didn’t say I couldn’t keep copies of the files.”

Clarisse leaned back into her seat with arms crossed. “I should have talked to him. I’d have gotten the sense out of him.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and turned into a large parking lot.

“There it is.” Percy pointed. “The car Tony and Agent David saw.”

Annabeth parked the car, taking up three spots.

“A black 2007 Porsche 911,” Clarisse said.

“Fits the description,” Annabeth said. “Correct license plate.”

“Also has a police officer keeping tabs on it,” Grover noted.

The demigods looked up to see a cop car rolling to a stop.

“I don’t know,” Percy said. “They’re probably giving us a ticket for Annabeth’s parking.”

Annabeth gave an airy laugh. “This place is empty,” she said. “They probably won’t even say anything.”

The window rolled down.

“You the, uh, NCIS?” The woman said after a quick glance at her computer screen.

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, showing her ID and badge, prompting the rest to do the same. Not that it mattered as the officer hardly even gave it a glance.

“Street cams have it coming in here yesterday afternoon.”

“Thanks for calling us,” Annabeth said.

“Do you need a tow?”

Annabeth shook her head. “It’s part of an ongoing NCIS investigation. We’ll have it picked up as soon as we can.”

The cop shrugged. “No worries. You can take your time.” She drove off. However, she did say one last thing as she rode passed them. “Oh, and please only take one parking space.”

Grover grinned at Percy. “Nice.” They shared a fist bump. Annabeth grumbled as she got back in the car.

Clarisse looked around. “If Botsaris left his car here, where did he go?”

“Maybe he went into the mall or got picked up?” Percy said.

Clarisse disagreed. “No, not at the mall. Since he knows we are involved, he didn’t park too close to the Hydra nest. But, if he wanted to come back to his car, he would have wanted to be somewhat near it. Grover, see if you can get up something and look around.”

“Get on top of something?” Grover said. “Like what?”

“There’s a tree right there, Goat boy,” Clarisse said. “The car is fine. You can even get on top of Prissy.”

“Um, let’s not,” Percy said, hands up in surrender.

“The tree is fine,” Grover said. He kicked his shoes off. The fake feet followed right after. He hopped up the tree like, well, like a goat. It looked a bit funny, a professionally dressed guy with hooves for feet surveying the land on top of a tree in a parking lot. A bit surreal, too. Even considering all the things Percy had seen.

It took a few seconds, but eventually…

“I see it!” Grover said. He launched himself back down and thanked the tree.

Annabeth got out of the car. “What happened?”

“I found Monster Donuts!” Grover told her. He snatched the keys from her hand. “Come on!”

“But I just – ugh!”

Percy felt for her and tugged her along to sit by him. He explained what happened as Grover revved up the car and went back on the street.

“Woah,” Annabeth said, as they got closer. “I’ve never seen one so big.”

Percy coughed down a joke and leaned over to get a look. The doughnut store was nothing like the one Annabeth, Tyson, and he found years ago. This one was much larger. “It has a drive-thru?!” Percy exclaimed. Did monsters drive? Or did this one also cater to non-monsters?

“Hmm, but it’s closed,” Annabeth said, noting the large sign, closing the drive-thru off. “Grover, park over there. We don’t want to alert any monsters by parking right in front of them.”

Grover parked the car out in front of an electronics store two stores down. They grabbed their gear.

“Right,” Annabeth said as they snuck through the drive-thru, “A place this big will have a staff-only entrance at the back. I’m guessing that’s where they keep weapons and deal with Cartels.

“Clarisse, you’re with me. Going in through the front sounds like a bad idea, and it looks like the only door that isn’t at the front is that back door reserved for loading and staff. We’ll have to go through there. We should be out in twenty minutes. If that doesn’t happen and you don’t hear anything, regroup and try IMing us to get a grip on the situation. If it doesn’t connect, call Chiron and leave. Don’t go barging in.

“Percy, stay out here. See if anything loads in. Hopefully, no one goes in or out while Clarisse and I exit. If it happens, we might need your help. Grover, you’ll be posted at the front. Try not to be seen. See who enters. It’d be great if you can…”

Percy’s eyes started wandering. Oooh, a Boston Crème with chocolate icing.

“Percy! Stop looking at the menu and focus!”

Percy snapped back to attention. “Sorry, Annabeth.”

Annabeth sighed. “At least you understand your part of the plan, right?”

Percy nodded. “Stay out here on lookout. Be backup when you guys leave. Regroup after twenty minutes.”

‘And if you’re not out by then, barge in for a rescue.’

Annabeth nodded. “Let’s do this.”

They split up. Clarisse and Annabeth sneaking their way in, and Grover heading off to find his own place.

Percy went nowhere. This felt oddly familiar. Annabeth giving out orders. Annabeth going into enemy lines. Annabeth leaving him right on the edge of the enemy base. Ah, Percy got it.

‘It’s just another game of Capture the Flag for Annabeth,’ Percy thought. Why did he always get left in the middle?

Great, and now he could hear a car coming in.

Percy stopped. Was that car coming through the drive-thru? Wasn’t it closed? Wait a second. If someone was coming through the drive-thru, they had to come around back which was where-

Percy cursed when he realized he was just standing there. He would never hear the end of it if he was seen. He looked around for a hiding place. ‘Oh, not again.’  Percy forced his pride down and shoved himself in the tight place. Percy couldn’t tell which was worse. Being in the dumpster or stuffed in between two of them. At least when he had been in the dumpster, he had Tony’s company.

A black SUV came coasting through the road and stopped by the corner of the building. Percy watched as three people stepped out. The woman was carrying a briefcase.

For such a professional-looking ride, they didn't dress the part. All of them in casual clothes. The lady with the briefcase gazed around the back area. Percy tried to shrink himself further into the shadows.

They went up to the store’s back wall. But they weren’t anywhere near the back entrance. With one final glance behind her, the lady raised her fist and knocked on an unassuming part of the wall.

And just like magic, the wall opened to reveal a secret doorway.

Percy couldn’t see who opened the door. What he did know was that Annabeth and Clarisse definitely needed to know what was happening in this secret entrance. Annabeth probably wouldn’t want him to move, but this was a reconnaissance mission. What kind of information would he get from outside the secret hideout?

Percy pushed himself out from between the two dumpsters and ran over to the wall, after making sure no other surprise visitors were coming.

He inspected the area. He brushed his hand over the wall until he found it. A very small, straight chasm. Unnoticeable to those who didn’t know what to look for.

Percy went back to the trash to find anything he could use. He picked up a thin sheet of metal that had corroded off of the dump itself. That should do the trick. He went back to the secret door and tried opening it. He jimmied the metal piece through the small area. The door slid open. He was met with a small, dark hallway. He entered, closing the secret doorway on the way. Percy crept in.

A couple paces away, the path turned, and there was a door-sized opening.

Percy pressed himself to the wall and took a chance, braving a peak. He gulped.

Those were a lot of monsters. Tens of telekhines and dracaenae were standing in different places around the room. A few harpies hung from the ceiling. A Hydra was curled up in the far corner. The mortals either didn’t see them or didn’t care. They just kept walking to the center.

There, dozens of long cases were strapped on rolling two-wheelers. And with them, stood Markos Botsaris.

“Mr. Tarsibo,” the woman said, emotionlessly.

“Ah, Ms. Cuadra,” Botsaris said, going in to shake her hand, “How wonderful to see you again.”

Ms. Cuadra waved him off. “Sí, sí, sí. Just the deal, Mr. Tarsibo.”

Botsaris went to grab her case. “Of course. Business as usual. Now, for the rest of the money.”

Ms. Cuadra held the case away from him. “Where are the rovers? You usually have them set up out back.”

“Ah,” Botsaris said, “Yes, there has been a little mishap with the vehicle order.”

“Mishap?”

Botsaris spread his arms in a shrug. “We don’t have them.”

“You don’t have them?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then the deal is off,” Ms. Cuadra said. A couple dracaenae hissed, but the woman continued. “Reynosa would have the transfer she gave you up-front back.”

“The money cannot be recalled. Unfortunately, we do not have access to our vehicles at the moment. And won’t have for some time. Your car order has, at the moment, been canceled.”

The woman bristled. “We have been trusting you and doing business together for a while. Do not get on the Reynosa’s bad side.”

Botsaris didn’t look bothered. “We will, of course, try to send the cars you ordered as soon as we may get them, but…” Botsaris looked at the wall behind him towards the inside of Monster Donuts.

Percy froze. Had they been found out? Had he sensed Annabeth and Clarisse?

The lady chortled. “What? Don’t remember your excuse?”

Botsaris smiled. “I’m sorry. But it seems we must have a break in proceedings. We have uninvited guests.”

The building rumbled, and the sounds of gunfire began.

-Αντώνης-

Tony left the car door open as he and the rest of Gibbs’s team surrounded the very familiar black Porsche.

“That’s the car that tried to run us over, Boss,” Tony said.

“Call it in,” Gibbs said.

Tony looked at McGee, who nodded and took his phone out.

“What are we thinking, Boss?” Tony said. “Chase and her friends find anything in the car that leads to Tarsibo?”

“Car is locked,” Ziva said. “It’s abandoned and empty. They couldn’t have found out anything by it.”

Tony frowned. “So, where’d they go?”

Gibbs gestured behind him. “Officer.”

Tony turned to see a local enforcement officer stop her ride. She looked out her window with pursed lips. “Let me guess,” she said. “NCIS?”

Gibbs flashed his badge, which was pointless as the officer didn’t even look. “Thought so. No double parking.”

Tony looked at where the federal vehicle was. True, it was taking up two spaces. “But there’s no one here.”

He got an unimpressed look. “You know how many times I hear that?”

Tony started to sputter a rough estimate, but Gibbs spoke over him.

“There was another team that came over here. Know where they went?”

The officer cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t know where your co-workers are? Do you not like talking with each other?”

Gibbs shrugged. Tony forced a chuckle out. “Government employees, am I right?”

Her face showed that no, she did not agree. “I think I saw them going down that street. I can’t be sure, though. They had one of their agents climb up a tree.”

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and looked at his team.

They all took a step back. Tony, McGee, and Ziva made their excuses at the same time.

“You know, I’ve just got this cramp in my legs- ooh. There it is.”

“Boss, I’ve never seen a tree before. I’m probably allergic.”

“I will light the tree on fire before I climb it. I’ll toss Tony in, though.”

The cop smirked. “Government employees, indeed.”

“Mmhmm,” Gibbs hummed and went back in the car.

Tony gladly followed. He almost didn’t have time to click in his seatbelt when Gibbs put the pedal to the metal and raced down the street.

“Where are we going?” McGee asked.

“Following a hunch.”

Tony and McGee shared a look. Gibbs’s gut.

“Gibbs,” Ziva said a minute later, pointing out the window, “Monster Donuts.”

Tony stared at the passing store. He had been searching this whole time! How did he miss that?

Gibbs turned into the nearest shopping area.

“Boss,” McGee said, “It’s Lima’s- er, Chase’s car.”

“They must have gone in already,” Tony said.

“Let’s go,” Gibbs said. They moved in on Monster Donuts on foot. Tony felt uncomfortable. Like they were being watched.

“It’s closed,” McGee said, noting the sign as they came up closer.

Gibbs tried the door. It didn’t open. Locked. He gestured to McGee.

“Not kicking down the door, Boss?” McGee asked.

Was he for real? Making snarky comments in this situation?

Gibbs’s eye twitched.

McGee withered. “Sorry.” He clicked his way through the lock, and they all filed in. The lights were off, and nobody was in the customer area. Seemingly empty. However, soft sounds came from behind the service counter.

Gibbs pointed at Ziva and signaled for a wedge formation. They went in. Gibbs taking flank, McGee watching six. There was a ton of equipment. Large tray stacks, fryers, a whole bunch of connecting rack wheels, conveyor belts. It was pretty cramped.

Ziva froze and held a fist up for the others to do the same. Tony watched with bated breath as she pressed herself against a large refrigerator. Ziva dropped to a crouch and waited a second. She suddenly whirled around and popped out of cover, gun at the ready.

Tony sighed through his nose when she gave the okay. Ziva made a hand sign. Tony frowned and took a peek behind the huge appliance.

A white poodle was lying down, stirring awake. Whoever put it there had cleared a really large space for it. It started to growl the instant it saw them. For such a small dog, it made the sound of a truck. Its beady eyes were murderous.

“Gibbs,” Ziva said quietly.

“I see it.”

Both had their guns drawn and pointed upwards. Tony didn’t see anything.

“What are you guys looking at?”

“Use your eyes,” Gibbs said.

“And let yourself believe,” Ziva added.

What? Tony looked back at the snarling dog. Use his eyes and believe was what they told him. Keep an open mind. It was essential for an investigator. Anything was possible.

And for perhaps the first time, Tony really looked. The white poodle faded away, replaced by a massive paw.

Tony drew in a long breath. He slowly tilted his head back, letting the air out in time.

He had no idea what he was seeing, but it was slobbering, had teeth almost the size of Tony’s head, and was much, much more menacing than the little poodle.

A small gasp to his right told Tony that McGee also saw it. His younger friend took a step back. For a scary moment, Tony thought he saw the dog smile.

“Easy,” Gibbs said.

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “A hellhound.”

As if recognizing the word, the hound responded.

Its bark shook the building.

-Ανναβετη-

Annabeth couldn’t even act like she was surprised. She and Clarisse were already on there way back out when Hades broke loose. Out of all her plans to be garbled, it always had to be one of the more important ones.

They scrambled outside and were immediately on edge upon seeing a black SUV.

“It looks empty,” Clarisse said, “Where’s Percy?”

Annabeth eyed the tinted car warily. She could take a good guess.

A slab of the wall slammed open. Annabeth didn’t even jump, but Clarisse rounded on it in a flash.

Percy yelped when he saw the gun in his face.

“You,” Clarisse said. “Where have you been?”

“The secret meeting room,” Annabeth answered.

Percy gaped at her. “How’d you know that?”

“The dimensions of the place didn’t add up.” Honestly, who were they trying to fool?

“Well, Botsaris is there with a ton of monsters and some people from the Reynosa Cartel.”

Clarisse spat a curse. She hefted her spear off her back and expanded it to full length.

“They are coming out right now!” Percy said.

“Guys!” Grover scrambled to a stop. “It’s the team. They went in through the front.”

“Let’s grab them and go,” Percy said.

The secret hatch crashed open once again.

“Go?” A dracaena hissed. “No one’ssss going any-“

She let a short wail as something gutted her stomach.

“Oh, someone’s going alright.” Clarisse bared her teeth. “But it sure as Hades ain’t gonna be me.” She twisted her spear, and the snake dissolved to dust.

The man who had stood behind the dracaena growled. Clarisse readied her spear as the man did the same with his own weapon.

Percy’s eyes went wide. “Gun!” he shouted. He grabbed Clarisse by the collar and dragged her away just before the shot came out.

Annabeth took cover with Grover behind the SUV. Clarisse and Percy joined them a second later. She took out her gun, prepped it, and fired a few shots. She missed the mortals but at least got them scrambling for their own cover. They weren’t the only ones with guns.

Clarisse followed her lead, taking shots at monsters. While being unable to kill immortals, regular bullets could still pack a mean punch. As they fell, vines and roots grew from the ground to keep them in place.

Annabeth looked at Percy. He had his sword out, but it was pretty out of place in a gunfight. “Percy,” Annabeth called, “The NCIS team. Go to the front and help them.”

“I would, but,” he ducked as an arrow chipped the car’s hood. “How am I going to get passed this?”

Annabeth thought for a second. “We’ll need a big distraction. Grover, can you get us something big?”

Grover paused his reed pipe rendition of ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams.’ “I’ll try, but I don’t really know. Having to keep all this playing up is making me tired.”

Shoot.

“What’s plan B?” Grover asked.

“We fight!” Clarisse said, unloading a couple shots.

“Actually, that’s plan E,” Annabeth said.

“Whatever.”

“Try anyway,” Annabeth told Grover. “Percy, just help while I figure this out.”

Percy’s brows scrunched up. He looked down at Riptide. “How?”

“Use your gun!”

He nodded at her and pried it out. He crouched over his cover and pulled the trigger.

Nothing came out. Percy looked at his gun in shock. Annabeth facepalmed. “Percy! The safety!”

“The what?!” Percy held out his gun. “How in Hades do you use this thing?!”

Clarisse snatched it away. “Give me that, doofus.”

“Hey!” Percy made to retaliate but had to dive down as a flurry of bullets came his way.

Annabeth watched as Percy screwed eyes tight. There was a squeal of metal. And suddenly, the barrage died out. Pipes burst from the doughnut store and sprung from the ground, water gushing out.

A harpy took its chance at the pause of gunfire and arrows. It swooped down on them. It didn’t get far. And it screamed as an electric spear pinned its wing to the ground.

“Percy!” Annabeth said, “You’re amazing!”

“I am?”

“You just made the distraction!” Annabeth gave him her spare knife. “Give this to one of the NCIS mortals.”

Clarisse also threw him a knife.

“You keep spare knives?” Percy asked.

“Always carry a spare knife!” The two girls said.

“Now, go! We’ll cover you.” Annabeth pushed him out.

They turned back to the horde of damp monsters and made sure Percy made it out of the fight zone.

“Hopefully, the mortals can help us out,” Grover said.

“I hope they don’t shoot at us.” Clarisse paused for a second, reloading a magazine. “Or die before they get the chance to.”

Annabeth said nothing. They shared a nod and, together, popped out and fired their rounds. Annabeth focused on the mortals. Although few of the monsters also carried firepower, their aim proved to be atrocious. Most likely attributed because their flippers and snake-limbs were not taken into consideration when guns were made.

Clarisse ignored the mortals entirely and let her bullets fly to Botsaris, who simply hid behind a telekhine, causing it to take each hit.

“Letting others take the shots!” Clarisse yelled. “What kind of son of Ares are you?”

Botsaris smiled at her. “I’m not a son of Ares.”

-Αντώνης-

Tony dodged a snap of teeth that would have cut him in half. Barely.

Tony almost went for the holstered gun at his hip, again. Not that it would do anything. Gibbs had ordered them to hold off after firing a couple shots at the beast proved to do no damage.

A knife flew by him and would have gone hilt deep into the dog’s head had it not been indestructible.

Ziva cursed behind him. Well, Tony had to give her kudos. It was one hell of a nice throw and had the absolutely wonderful effect of pissing the beast off even more.

Now, it really wanted to kill them, starting with Ziva. And Tony just happened to be in its way.

“Go!” he shouted.

He grabbed a spatula and held it like a bat.

“Come on. Come on,” He muttered, hoping to God that the hellhound didn’t actually do it. But it did.

This was it, Tony realized. He was going to die by dog. How pathetic. He always thought that this was how McGee would go. But if McGee, Ziva, and Gibbs survived because he, Very Special NCIS Agent Anthony DiNozzo, made the sacrifice, then that’s what he would do.

Tony was about to swing his flimsy weapon and get himself eaten while totally not screaming when something slipped by him. No, not something. Someone. A flash of bronze sliced in front of the hound. It let out a yelp, and a gold ooze ran into its furry chest. The hellhound swiped a massive paw at the new attacker. But the boy just flipped over it.

Tony stared. That was Jackson! He was fighting a massive dog beast with a sword! And doing some epic parkour, too. Wow, he was pretty impressive!

At some point, Percy had managed to get on top of the beast. With both hands on the hilt and a victorious yell, he thrust his sword into the dog’s neck.

The dog let out a whimper before rupturing to dust.

Percy landed on the ground, covered in gold dead-monster sand. If his brain was working properly, Tony would have thought that the scene he just saw explained a lot.

“Aw, did you have to kill him?” A voice called out. Tony turned around. A lumbering figure came out from the back. A man as big as a bear stepped into the destroyed area. He was wearing a colorful uniform and an apron that read, ‘Donut panic! I’m Cooking!’. According to the name tag, his name was Steve. “He just wanted to play.”

Tony swallowed. The man had arms thicker than turkey legs. And he could probably wield a spatula a lot better than Tony could. But what was really having him freak out was the one, big eyeball that was stuck right above his nose.

“Heh, you know, we got that dog when we figured out someone was sneaking around. Placed him right by the entrance.”

Jackson frowned. “So, why didn’t you put one by the back door, too?”

The cyclops blinked his one big eye. “Uhhhh….”

‘Thunk!’

Tony watched in a repulsive fascination as that great big eye rolled backward. Its owner struck to the floor.

Gibbs stood behind the body, a huge rolling pin in his hands.

Jackson blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Looks like you’ve got yourselves covered.” He dropped down two bronze knives. “Your weapons won’t work. Use these.” And before anyone could say anything, he rushed out back again.

Gibbs twirled the wooden utensil in his hands.

“Boss,” Tony gaped, “You just knocked out a Cyclops!”

Gibbs’s lips curled. “Yeah. I did.”

Tony, Ziva, and Tim could only stand and watch as Gibbs turned and followed Jackson to the store’s back.

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