Summary: The team investigates the death of a Marine sergeant and his wife, which leaves their son brimming with revenge. Will NCIS be able to find the ones responsible and prevent the son from exacting his revenge?

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Suspense

Pairings: none

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to Mr. Bellasario, Mr. McGill, and CBS Paramount. The only character I own is Jaecyon McConnell.

ONE
Just a Normal Day, But an Astute Witness

The elevator of NCIS opened with a ding, and NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee stepped out. He was currently shuffling his hand on his iPod, searching for a particular song. Though still trying to find inspiration for his novel, he considered what he already had loaded on it to be classics. It was also his work-out mixes whenever he found himself going to the gym. Despite being the butt of his co-worker and fellow agent Anthony DiNozzo's jokes, McGee did have a life outside of work. He worked out, whenever he could.

He took a brief look around, only seeing Ziva and DiNozzo at their respected desks, but they were obviously arguing about something that did not demand his immediate attention. As soon as he walked toward his desk, DiNozzo spoke first. "What the heck is that in your ears, Probie?" he asked.

"What, this?" McGee asked innocently. "Just listening to some Queen. You know, to expand my musical tastes besides jazz."

Ziva was puzzled, looking up from her computer and seeing McGee with earphones in his ear. "Who?" she repeated.

"Only one of the greatest rock bands of the '80s," DiNozzo explained, making his way to McGee's desk. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have Princes of the Universe on there, would ya?" Ziva rolled her eyes and went back to work, while DiNozzo trotted over to McGee’s desk. "You wanna talk about a rock anthem, well, that's it. The guitar riffs and drums are wild." Tony cleared his throat, and McGee started logging in to his computer.

"Uh-oh," McGee uttered.

"What, uh-oh?" Ziva asked.

"And here we are," Tony began, and McGee winced as he set his headphones down to finish logging in. "We're the princes of the universe. We would be lost, fighting for survival. We've come to be your equal!"

McGee looked up and said to Ziva, "Tony can't sing."

Tony quickly whacked McGee over the back of his head. "I resent that, McNatra!" he exclaimed, putting an unusual spin to the many nicknames he gave the young agent. "I try. Don't I at least get an A for effort?"

McGee and Ziva looked from one another and then back to Tony before answering with a resounding, "No."

The elevator doors parted open again, and Senior Supervisory Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked briskly into the NCIS bullpen. The three agents scrambled back to their desks and sat, waiting for their boss. "DiNozzo trying to serenade us this morning?" he asked, a hint of humor but also seriousness in his tone.

"Morning, Boss," the group chimed in unison. Gibbs just nodded, not even looking up from his computer as he continued logging in. It was a long process, but Gibbs was typed quickly, immediately opening up his e-mail.

"Trying is the right word, Boss," McGee answered, trying not to smile.

"And you can do better, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

McGee stammered, "Wha, m-me, no. I can't-"

"It was rhetorical, McGee." Gibbs shifted to business just like that, not even looking up from his computer when he finished scanning his messages. Then one of them caught his attention. "Get your gear," he commanded.

"Where to, Boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"Got a double murder in the 1300 neighborhood of Georgetown." At first, the agents seemed to be moving slow, and Gibbs was already near the elevator. "Some time today, ladies!" he shouted, a flash of his military tone in his voice.

--

Flash! Flash! Flash!

The camera clicked three times at three different angles of the recently deceased. One angle was a horizontal view, with their faces shown with a blank expression. The other two angles were vertical, and they were going to be sent to autopsy for further examination. It was this part of the job that Officer Ziva David hated sometimes. She was trained by Mosad and death was something that came naturally because of the extensive training. She was also human, and the scene of death was one that she was not relishing to let go of. She was disturbed by the scene mentally, but she dismissed it and went back to her task.

Another vehicle arrived on the scene moments later bearing the NCIS emblem and out entered the medical examiner Donald “Ducky” Mallard. Half a beat later, his assistant, the ever-efficient Jimmy Palmer followed already carrying a gurney. The crime scene was still surrounded by the local LEOs and Gibbs’ team was in the process of examining it for themselves.

"I apologize for the delay, Jethro, but there was a slight problem with the engine," Ducky explained. "But rest assured, it’s fixed now." Quickly, he examined the body. "Well, CODs were gun shots to the head, but I will have to check with Abby to determine what kind of gun did this when I do up the autopsy reports."

Palmer took out a medical thermostat from his pocket, also examining the body, just as Ziva took another picture. He gazed at the reading and then returned his gaze back to Ducky. "Time of death is at between seven and eight hours, which places it between twenty-two and twenty-three hours."

"Of all places, why Georgetown?" DiNozzo asked. "I mean what's the significance of this area?"

"Besides the breathtaking view, I can't think of anything," Ducky answered with a sigh and shrug. "It reminds me of home, sometimes, Anthony. Especially the scenic view overlooking a river."

The crime scene was investigated through and through. Police tape was spread out across the entrance to the apartment to the car that was still in the parking lot. The inside of the apartment was spacious, with a stairway leading to the second floor and bedrooms. The main foyer seemed unscathed, however, save for the shattered glass. The furniture still looked relatively new, but it was clear that it was not. The team examined the apartment, looking for evidence. The only thing they found were the stained glass and a dusting of what remained of a shell casing from some kind of fire arm.

McGee and an officer were talking to a witness, but he was apparently unhelpful. He had said that he only heard gunshots and ran to dial 911 immediately. McGee's attention swept from the police officer to someone who was now sitting on the porch.

Another officer was making his way to the porch, and his attention was on the new arrival. "You can't be here, kid," he said. "This is a crime scene."

"I'm no kid," was the astute reply.

The officer shook his head and turned to McGee. "Go on ahead," he said, shaking his head. "But be quick. I'm tempted to taking him in for that smart-mouth of his." And the officer ducked under the police tape, talking amongst other witnesses.

"Pretty nice apartment you have here," McGee casually said. The witness was silent. His eyes briefly closed for a moment, as he felt the sting of a tear start to form. "Something tells me you know who lived here."

The witness turned to McGee with a flare of fire in his eyes. "Of course I know who lived here," he answered. "My parents. I visit them every weekend, but nothing like this has happened before." He turned his attention to the NCIS vehicle on the parking lot and back to the cap on McGee’s head. "NCIS? What is that, Nationwide Crime Intelligence Services?"

"Actually, it's Naval Criminal Investigative Services," McGee corrected.

"And what does that cover?" the witness asked.

"All four branches of the service: Navy, Air Force, Marine, and Army."

"Ah."

"McGee, why don't you help Tony and Ziva clean up," Gibbs ordered quietly. "I'll take care of this."

"You sure, Bosss?" McGee asked, still standing in his position. Gibbs just gave the agent a look and McGee quickly walked into the apartment. "Sure thing, Boss." McGee headed inside without further question.

Gibbs watched the agent go off and then turned his attention back to the witness. "My apologies, and my sympathies," he said. "I know how much they meant to you."

"Thank you."

"Do you know who would do this?"

The witness nodded. "I can think of only one group responsible for this, and I can promise you, that they will pay for what they did." Gibbs waited patiently as the witness continued. "They call themselves the Cobras, a militant group that delivered in mass weapons and worked with a neo-fascist Russian army from the late 1960s." The witness sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "And now, they're back and they targeted my parents."

"Do you remember the commander running this Cobra Unit?"

The witness shook his head. "I've only heard a codename mentioned: Thunderbolt."

"Thunderbolt?" Gibbs repeated, confusion in his voice.

The witness nodded. "Now, he's made the biggest mistake of his life by killing my parents."

Gibbs sighed. "So, you're looking for revenge," he uttered calmly.

"You're damn right I am," was the calm yet angered reply.

"Revenge won't bring them back." Once again, Gibbs was calm.

"I don't care."

"You might be next."

"I'll take that chance."

"But I won't. I'm putting you under surveillance."

Gibbs glazed at the witness and heard him stammer, "Wha- you can't do that! I - what if your protection gets killed!?"

"I can assure you, they won't." Gibbs popped his suit once and reached into his wallet for a business card. "If you remember anything, don't hesitate to call."

The witness examined the card for a moment. NCIS Senior Supervisory Field Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Then he turned his attention to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs," he said, getting the man's attention. "My apologies for my astute behavior. My name is Jaecyon McConnell. I'll be sure to call if I know anything."