Tony, Ziva, and McGee sat in varying states of attention at their desks. It was early in the day, and Gibbs had not yet made an appearance.

Tony lounged in his corner with headphones on, laughing his butt off. McGee had long ago abandoned the pretense of typing on his computer, and Ziva had a very confused face, one she gave Tony often.

"Oh, no," Tony said. "That's just not right." He chuckled- more like snortled, in Mcgee's opinion- loudly again.

McGee and Ziva exchanged glances.

"What is he doing?" Ziva part-mouthed, part-whispered to McGee. He shrugged and craned his neck, trying to see Tony's screen, not even bothering to do so discreetly.

Ziva cleared her throat and spoke up. "Tony. Tony? Hello?"

"Tony!" she screamed impatiently.

Tony looked up from his screen "Wha-?"

"Care to share?"

"Yeah," his eyes drifted back to the screen. "I'm catching up on this show, which is absolutely hilarious! I couldn't watch it because I didn't have time to, so I got a streaming service. Hey, Probie, why don't you get me some popcorn or something?"

Ziva let out a shocked laugh, giving Tony a disbelieving look. McGee couldn't resist grinning at the fact that Tony had stopped calling him the infuriating title as much since it was now bestowed on Ziva.

Someone moved behind Tony, and Tim had to cover his mouth to hide his amusement. Ziva gave a malicious smirk.

"Are you comfortable, Tony?" She asked, innocently.

Tony gave an exaggerated stretching display. "If you are offering your services, please keep them to yourself." He paused in thought. "Actually, you know what I would love? A foot massage." He propped his feet on the table, leaning back on his chair. "Man, that would be-"

Tony froze.

Tim dared not make a sound. He was practically shaking trying to keep his laughter contained.

Gibbs lifted a brow. "That would be what, DiNozzo?"

Tony scrambled to get his feet off the table.

"Horrible, Boss!" Tony clicked his mouse rapidly, most likely exiting his streaming site. "I would never use my superior position to my personal gain."

Gibbs continued to stare down at him.

"Especially not on government time," Tony added.

Gibbs crooked his finger. Ziva chuckled darkly as Tony timidly complied.

Tony got a slap on the head and whimpered. Tim never felt better.

Gibbs went to his desk to collect his gear.

"We going somewhere, Boss?" Tony asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Dead marine."

-Ανναβετη-

It was dark outside. The sliver of moon shining in the sky did not make enough light to see. Annabeth didn't need it. She could find her desired destination blindfolded. She stopped and caught her breath. She couldn't let him see her in a panting mess. Not when she needed him to let her go. She banged on the door to the bighouse. There was a long moment when nothing happened. Annabeth clenched her fists to a silent rhythm, willing herself not to bang on the door again. Chiron opened the door, his curlers still in his tail.

"Annabeth! What is it?"

"It's Michael. He's been shot."

Chiron's eyes widened. "Ah, I do believe you should come inside…" He frowned at something behind her. Annabeth turned to see Percy jogging over.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked.

"Annabeth," he said, "I saw him. I saw Michael in my dream. I'm sorry."

Annabeth swallowed. "It's fine. I'm okay."

"Come inside, both of you," Chiron said, turning back inside. "Let us discuss this."

After Annabeth described the phone call and Percy described his dream, in which he saw Michael get shot and nothing more, they waited for Chiron to speak. The old centaur put a hand on his chin thoughtfully.

"A gunshot?" Chiron mumbled, "That's most interesting…" He turned his attention back to the demigods in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something but must have decided against it. He sighed. "I won't waste my time telling you not to think too much into it. You'll want to investigate his death. Although, let it stand that I advise against it."

"If Percy had a dream of it, then there must be something that the mortals won't understand."

Chiron gave her a look to let her know what he thought of her poor excuse.

"Since he was a U.S. Marine," Chiron said, "NCIS will be in charge of the inquiry."

"The what now?" asked Percy.

"The Naval Criminal Investigative Service," replied Annabeth.

"Oh."

"You, my dear," the centaur said, addressing Annabeth, "Will take three companions with you."

"What? Chiron, the usual number is two companions. Why are you suggesting that she takes three?" asked Percy.

"The NCIS teams commonly work in groups of four, and we should- as they say, 'In Rome, do as the Romans do,'" replied Chiron. "Look here; I don't like this either. As I already told you, I disapprove of you going altogether."

Annabeth opened her mouth to retaliate, but Chiron held his hand up. "I know. You have already made your decision. If this were a common quest, I would put my hoof down on two companions, but this is not. I know you are already intent on going, and I will help you. To avoid some excess of questions, you're going to have to be like NCIS. I will help counsel you and your companions on all the equipment, the files, and other preparations that must be done."

"What? Slow down. Files? What kind of equipment?" asked Percy.

"Profiles, credentials, guns. But, Chiron, doesn't there have to be a forensic pathologist and a forensic specialist of any kind?" Inquired Annabeth.

"Don't we need clearance?" Percy wailed, confused.

Chiron and Annabeth ignored him. "The mortal investigators will take care of that," Chiron told Annabeth. "Now, more on this in the morning- well, er- at least after breakfast."

"No arguing," Chiron told her before she could speak up, "It will take a while to set up a story and have it directed to the correct channels, and you, my dear, should get some rest. You have a tough quest ahead of you."

-Αντώνης-

McGee took a picture of the man in the red Maserati.

"Looks pretty young," remarked McGee, "Not older than twenty would be my guess."

"We'll figure that out later, Probie," Tony said, "Just keep taking pictures."

Tony brought up his camera and took a picture of McGee. McGee scowled at him. Tony started laughing, but it died out and was replaced with the weight of a frown.

"What?" McGee asked. He spun around.

"NCIS," said a blonde girl, showing her badge and I.D. to a cop.

"NCIS, huh?" Tony said, looking over the group of four. If Gibbs saw this, he would have a field day!

"Those guys look too young to be working as federal agents," McGee said.

"Yeah," said Tony, eyeing the blonde, "Besides, we are the one and only NCIS. You think the blonde one is too young for me?"

"I'm not even going to answer that question. And don't you remember L.A.?"

The group started coming up to the car, and Tony felt obliged to step up, blocking their way to the car, body, and rest of the crime scene.

"Why, hello. May I do anything for you?" Tony smiled at the blonde. He was surprised to see her eyes. An intense, unusual gray, but he didn't let the surprise show. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, but," he addressed the blonde, "You may call me, Tony." He stretched out his hand.

Tony saw some humor in the blonde's eyes. "Anne Lima." she shook the hand. "This is Agent Percy Jackson."

A young man with black hair, sea-green eyes, and the perfect tan shook Tony's hand.

"Clarisse La Rue and Grover Underwood." A big, mean-looking girl came and grabbed his hand in a sturdy grip. He tried not to wince in her hold and covered with a reassuring grin. He didn't think she bought it if her smirk was anything to go by. Tony knew she could beat him up with just pure muscle. "Wow, what a grip," Tony murmured.

Underwood was the opposite, walking with a slight limp and sporting a skinny frame with curly hair and a goatee. "N-nice to meet you," he stuttered out.

Just then, Gibbs showed up.

-Ανναβετη-

Annabeth was, admittedly, excited, not that she would show it. She was on an undercover mission as a federal agent. The fake name was just in case her name was on the phone. After they finished introducing each other to Agent DiNozzo, an older man showed up at his side, giving a questioning look pointed to Annabeth and her team.

"Hey, Boss," said Tony.

'Boss' looked at Annabeth's team and then back at Tony.

"Oh, right. Guys, this is Very Special Agent Gibbs. Boss, these are Agents Lima, Jackson, La Rue, and Underwood." They all smiled when Tony said their names, except Clarisse, who just nodded her head upwards like she was saying, 'Punk'.

Gibbs nodded his head. "So, what's your job here?" he asked.

Percy, Clarisse, and Grover looked at Annabeth. "We're investigating the death of a Marine," answered Annabeth.

"What!?" Tony exclaimed, "But that's what we're doing!"

Annabeth didn't miss how another agent rolled his eyes at his co-worker's theatrics.

They looked like fun.

"I don't pair up," Gibbs said.

Unlike this guy.

"The higher-ups aren't really asking," Annabeth responded.

"What's your base?" Gibbs asked.

"Long Island," Annabeth said.

"I'll-" Gibbs phone started ringing, and he frowned. Gibbs looked at the caller ID before picking up. "Leon, what is this?... You know I-… alright." He snapped his phone shut.

"Looks like we will be working together," Gibbs stated.

Annabeth's mouth twitched upwards, "I hope information will be able to flow freely between us, Gibbs."

Gibbs lightly scoffed, and he walked away. Tony cleared his throat and moved out of their way.

"Ouch," remarked Percy, "and in red Maserati, too."

"Oh, Michael," Annabeth whispered so nobody could hear, "What happened?"

Michael's body looked like all the monsters of Tartarus, unexpectedly, came and attacked him, leaving him bruised, scarred, and for the finale, a bullet hole going through the left side of his head. Blood painted the interior red. As Annabeth was personally aware, head injuries bled profusely. She spotted the tire marks of the crashed car and another set with number marks next to them. Michael's cell phone was still flipped open and sitting on the passenger seat.

"We think that he may have contacted or tried to contact someone with the cell that's on the passenger seat," said Tony.

"No, really!?" snarked Clarisse, "I totally didn't figure that out!"

Annabeth turned to them and saw Clarisse roll her eyes like, 'Can you believe this guy?'

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse was seriously surprised when Annabeth chose her as a companion on the quest, or is it investigation? Eh- who cares? Anyway, when she had to choose the three companions, it was so obvious who the first two were going to be: Percy and Grover. Everyone was expecting someone from the Athena cabin to be the third, but they were all wrong because she chose Clarisse. Had the camp roiling in whispers. Prissy and Goat boy were practically wetting themselves. Their whining was exactly the reason Clarisse had the same 'Why?' questions as they did.

It wasn't like Annabeth and Clarisse were friends. Okay, maybe once in a blue moon they would agree with each other and help each other. Or maybe there was a crisis, and they were both on the same side, but it didn't happen often. But nobody questioned her. They all knew that Annabeth has her reasons.

Clarisse didn't like it. Going on a quest with Prissy? Ha, that's funny. 'This is probably going to be the worst operation ever!' Thought Clarisse. It had better not end with her in another embarrassing position like the first time, or she'll really give it to them.

But actually, it wasn't going so bad, there was this idiot agent called Tony, who kept eyeing Annabeth. He either didn't notice that he was way too old for her or just didn't care. There was this other old agent she did like, though; his name was Gibbs. He didn't mention his first name. Gibbs, the 'Boss', was obviously the guy in charge. He carried himself in confidence and leadership, something that Clarisse definitely respected. A no-nonsense man. Clarisse had no doubts. She knew that haircut. She recognized that strength, that personality. This guy was military. This guy was a Marine.

Clarisse tore her attention back towards the crime scene. Michael, son of Athena. What she knew was that Michael first came to Camp Half-Blood when he was thirteen. He had run away from home. Three years later, he left camp and joined the U.S. Marines. It was his decision. Rarely, he would IM his siblings, and maybe once or twice in the five years he was gone, he would visit. Now, he was black-and-blue-and-red. Bruises and bloody scars covered his body. It was quite painful to look at.

-Περσεύς-

Percy lightly touched Annabeth's arm. "Hey," he murmured, "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Jethro!" Percy turned to see two men walking over to them, carrying cases. The one speaking, the older one, had a light fedora hat. "Good morning!"

"Not good for this guy, Duck," Gibbs replied.

"Well yes, I assume- oh," the man stopped as he saw the four 'Long Island Agents.' "I do believe there are more young sprouts to this pot."

"NCIS agents from Long Island," Tony said.

"Ah! Well, I am Dr. Donald Mallard," the Doctor extended his hand.

Annabeth was the first to accept the hand. "Anne Lima."

A round of introductions went by. "Yes, now who is our brave soul who has brought us here today?"

McGee scanned Michael's finger with a sort of hand-held machine, as Dr. Mallard and his assistant James Palmer examined him. "This is… Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale. He was an engineer."

"What'd you got, Ducky?" Gibbs asked the older gentleman who had half his body inside the car, inspecting the body.

"Well, he was in some sort of fight. Most of the bruises and cuts are from the crash, but not all of them. This car crash may be lethal, but it shouldn't have put some of these lacerations here. Of course, there is the very obvious bullet hole. These bruises on the knuckles indicate that he was getting physically attacked. Also, these cuts on his arm, the downward ones, are fresh, but deeper and indicate that his attacker may have been armed. At the speed this man must have been driving, to have caused such a disastrous wreckage, I'd say this poor boy was being hunted."

"Yeah," Palmer said. "Unfortunately, he got caught."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, it seems so. Let us turn him over, Mr. Palmer."

With the ease of experience, they flipped the Sergeant over on his stomach. The sight made Percy whisper a curse. McGee stood over, surprise written on his face. Tony mumbled a short, "Oh…"

"I believe," said Dr. Mallard, "that this young man has a very interesting story to share."

-Ζήβα-

"I was just going on my usual run," the girl said. "I always get up at six to jog. And when I found him, I immediately called 911."

"Yes," Ziva nodded, "that was the right thing to do. We appreciate it. Truly. It was Kasey, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, can you just fill this paper out, just so we know how to contact you if we have to?"

"Of course."

As Kasey filled out the form, Ziva peppered out a few more questions.

"You don't recognize him?"

"No," Kasey said, shaking her head.

"Did you happen to see anything, anybody? Is anything different from when you found it?"

"No. Nothing, except you guys."

"Where do you work? Uh- do you work?"

Kasey let out an amused breath. "Yes. On weekdays, I work as a waiter at Ray's from eight to two, and then at the daycare center from three to... Oh my God…"

Ziva looked up and saw the girl staring at the body. She turned and saw that the body had been turned over. Long, bloody claw marks had ripped the man's back to shreds. As if a big dog had attacked him.