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.