Hello I'm back.

So this is my latest story Sub Zero, I'm also writing another one which will be put up at the conclusion of this one. Please forgive me for any inaccuracies, I have done lot of research on US submarines and life on a sub but there's only so much you can find out.

Please review, tell me what you think of the story, constructive criticism, a simple hello, all is welcome. I'm going to do a thing with this story. In your review, include a random word such as 'Platypus' or 'bubble' and I will try and slip it into the next chapter. Just a bit of audience participation to keep this story interesting.

Right, that's all from me, please enjoy

Fists flew as an intense brawl in the heart of the USS Seawolf continued into its second minute. The explosion of anger was overdue as tensions between the crew had been at breaking point for almost a week now. Every ship and every crew had its flaws, that were the nature of the business, on every submarine there were fights and drinking, but nothing compared to this. No crew was perfect, and it was only as strong as its weakest link. However the crew if the Submarine Seawolf seemed to have many, many chicks in their chain; between disagreements, rivalry's, grudges and differences, the submarine Seawolf was practically the model of a dysfunctional crew.

The fight continued to rage in the cramped and claustrophobic hallways of the sub. Twenty five, maybe thirty sailors were involved in this particular brawl, each venting their anger on others with hard hitting punches and kicks. At least one man was already out on the floor after hitting his head on a low lying pipe, quite possibly not accidently.

Between one pair in particular, the fighting was particularly fierce, one had a black eye, and the other a heavily bleeding broken nose. It was between these two that a passing remark had become a heated exchange, and then a full blown, all in brawl.

This was of course the second such brawl on the USS Seawolf since it left port, only three weeks ago.

Soon enough, the CO and his officers arrived to break it up. And the Commander in particular, was less than impressed.

"That's it!" He shouted "I've had quite enough of this! I don't care about the mission; I am turning this submarine around and heading straight for the nearest port this instant! I am retracting your official warnings and reporting you all for insubordinate conduct. Now clear off and get back to work, and if I hear so much as a peep out of anyone of you, I'll throw you overboard! No go!" Commander Sharp shook his head and left, mumbling to himself angrily.

Nick McCormack took a deep breath to steady himself but it got stuck in his throat and turned instead into a bought of coughing, he leaned back against the wall behind him. His good friend, Steven Locks offered him a hanky to stem the flow of his still heavily bleeding broken nose, McCormack took it gratefully and dabbed it gingerly on his nose.

"I'll get that bastard one day" he said short of breath and through gritted teeth. Using his free hand to grip his chest.

"He's just egging you on. Char would never go near someone like him; you shouldn't have started a fight… again. Seriously mate, learn from your mistakes, half the ships going to be court-martialed all cause of you."

"Yeah, 'you shouldn't have started a fight' " Nick mocked, taking a few shallow breaths "Says the man who single handily took on…" another pause for breath "three cooks and knocked out some Sonar Officer. You can't talk."

"Loyalty in friendship" Locks replied proudly, putting his hand on his friends shoulder. "Now you've gone and gotten yourself an asthma Attack, gees, let's get you to Hunter aye?" he suggested, offering his hand to help him up to his feet, As soon as Nick was standing he put his arm around Locks shoulders to help himself walk as he was struggling to remain upright. "Now, now" Locks laughed "Not too fast, we don't want you getting anymore hurt little princess. What's wrong? Scared you might chip a nail?"

McCormack punched him in the arm "Shut up… and help… you big, blonde oaf…"

When McCormack and Locks finally arrived in the bay, the Medic, Adam Hunter's face dropped in disappointment. He knew what had happened, he'd seen it all before, Hunter hated violence, and he hated seeing his crew torn apart by hatred like this. Just over a week ago in the aftermath of the previous fight, Hunter had pleaded McCormack to tred lightly, especially when around Tucker, but evidently his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

He directed the pair to sit down on the bottom bunk and prepared some towels and an asthma ventilator, or a nebulizer.

"You just don't listen do you?" he sighed, giving the towels to McCormack to replace the now blood soaked hankie. Laying McCormack back onto the bed, Hunter placed the mask of the ventilator tentatively and turned it on. "It's going to hurt your nose but deal with it, suck it up, This is what you get for fighting you know. Deep breaths, it should help."

There was the thudding and echo of running footsteps approaching and bouncing of the narrow corridors of the submarine, and Officer Martin Tully poked his head through the door with great haste. "Hunter, you, with me now, you two Locks"

"No, I can't leave McCormack, It's against protocol" Hunter replied.

"Look" Tully said firmly "Foster fell and broke his arm, Wilson dislocated his shoulder and McGregor's out cold. We need you, don't worry about McCormack, he'll be fine."

"We can't leave Nick, not with a bleeding nose and asthma, he could choke." Locks argued.

Tully shook his head "Hunter…" he warned

"Guys, I'll be fine!"

Hunter mulled it over in his head, carefully considering his options. "Fine, fine, let's go" he replied and Hunter and Locks followed Tully out to help the other injured, leaving Nick McCormack alone in the medic bay.

McCormack was still struggling for breath; each was shallower than the last, even with the help of the ventilator. But he wasn't going to admit that, not with Locks standing there ready to take the mickey out of him for being weak. The mask was precariously balanced on his face to avoid his nose or the towels around it, but yet no matter where or how he placed it on his face, it hurt his nose like hell, yet another thing Locks would pay him out about if he was here. His breathing continued to get shorter and shallower and he began to doubt that the ventilator was making any difference at all. In fact, he was becoming light headed; a result of what he assumed was a mixture of blood loss and breathing difficulties. More and more he was feeling dizzier and fainter, and he hoped that the benefits on the ventilator would kick in soon. And slowly but surely, Nick McCormack slipped out of consciousness and everything went black.

Steven Locks was a big man. Not big as in fat, but tall and muscular, 6 foot 4 to be precise. While being the size he was had some advantages and disadvantages, for example he was good at basketball; there was one big disadvantage which he had found quite irritating recently. While his other crewmates on the USS Seawolf could dart this way down one corridor and run then run down another, sprinting from one part of the sub to the other to get the job done in time, Locks himself could not navigate the sub at more than a slow jog, as even at walking pace he would regularly hit his head on the overhead pipes. One advantage of his build however, and the reason Tully had dragged him along, was he was well suited to carrying the weight of another, full grown man.

He followed Hunter back to the Medic bay. Hunter, in front of him was assisting Foster while trying to make sure the makeshift splint on his broken arm stayed in place. Tully behind him was helping Wilson, who was still putting on a brave face after having his shoulder popped back into place. At the moment the only thing on his mind was painkillers.

This left Locks in the middle carrying the unconscious body of Sonar Officer Andrew McGregor, who in an interesting twist of Irony had been the very sonar Officer that Locks had knocked unconscious by slamming their head into a low hanging pipe just a few minutes ago. As he ducked and weaved through the maze of crapped corridors and low ceilings, Locks tried his best not the injure McGregor any further, however his effort failed to stop him from accidently slamming into the back of a door. Though avoiding injury was hard for Locks before, carrying the dead weight of McGregor in his hands made it even harder.

As they turned into the medic bay, Locks lay McGregor down on the floor using a first aid kit as a pillow, as the one rack in the room was already being used by McCormack. Hunter directed Foster to his chair and Wilson sat down next to McCormack's feet. Hunter began collecting supply's. Pain meds, bandages, and splints. He walked over to Foster and began tentatively working on his arm. Wilson used his uninjured arm to prod McCormack.

"How's it going mate?" he asked, but there was no reply.

Hunter also gave him a bit of a prod "McCormack, I need thumbs up"

Still no response.

This greatly worried Locks, as it was very uncharacteristic behaviour for his good friend. "Alright, stop yacking, you okay Nick?" he asked with great concern.

Locks stood up straight from where he had been leaning against the door frame next to Tully. He exchanged a quick glance with Hunter and stepped over McGregor to get to McCormack. He removed the ventilator mask, and then the completely blood soaked towel, he gave him a light shake but there was still no response. Locks leant in to try and listen to McCormack's breath, but there was none. Worriedly, he looked up at Hunter before grabbing McCormack's wrist and trying to find a pulse. At this point, Hunter was getting increasingly worried, and shoved Locks out of the way. Putting two fingers on McCormack's neck, he searched for a pulse, but there was none.

Hunter looked up at Locks who was standing over him "He's dead" he said calmly "I'm sorry"

It took a while for Locks to comprehend what had happened. His best friend was dead, right in front of him. He turned to faced Tully, who was still standing in the doorway. Jumping over McGregor on the ground he launched himself at Tully, grabbing him by his shirt and pushing him back into the wall of the corridor opposite the door.

"This is all your fault! This is all your fault!" he shouted angrily "We shouldn't have left him alone!" he yelled, shoving Tully up against the wall again.

"Stop it, stop it, stop that" Hunter argued, attempting to pull Locks of Tully to no success. They parted eventually and Locks stalked of, fuming in anger, confused and upset. Tully straightened his shirt, took a final look at McCormack before walking off in the opposite direction. Hunter, now alone in the corridor, turned back to face his bay once more.

Wilson gingerly moved away from McCormack and onto a nearby chair.

Hunter was staring at McCormack's body when he realised, "Oh shit, McGregor!" he panic and quickly fell to his knees to start attending to him, as he was still on the floor and still unconscious.

Picking out an Oxygen mask from a cupboard, Hunter placed it on McGregor. It was important that he could remember all his training about head trauma because the preliminary treatment was crucial.

"Right, stabilizing…. Oxygen and… blood flow, right" There wasn't much he could do for McGregor, but straightening his head and neck would give him the best chance of coming out of this unscathed. Quickly considering his options, he decided he had done all he could. "I have to go tell the commander" Hunter told Wilson and foster. "Foster, keep checking McGregor here, anything happens to him, if anything happens to any of you, you shout so the loud the mermen of Atlantis hear you. Understood?"

And so as the medic Adam Hunter walked down that long and cramped hallway. He thought of everything he could have done differently, every miniscule action he could have changed to fix the situation he found himself in now. But thinking about it was no good; Nick McCormack now lay dead in Hunter's Medic Bay, and no matter how hard he thought about it nothing was going to change that. As he walked to find Commander Sharp and break the bad news, Adam Hunter stoped and sighed. Isn't hind sight a wonderful thing.

A long way away, Ziva David had also stopped walking. She had seen something so shocking that it stopped her dead her tracks. Right before her very eyes was none other than Anthony DiNozzo, at work early, sitting at his desk actually working and actually filling out the large tower of paperwork that had congregated on his desk in the past few weeks.

Ziva scrunched her eyes in confusion and smiled slightly, sitting down at her desk and staring at him suspiciously.

"What has gotten into you today?" she asked

Tony looked up from his desk with wide eyes. "About six cups of coffee since 3 am" he answered

"What is wrong?" Ziva asked concerned

"That freaky man hands women from accountings on my case. She came up to me last night and said that if I didn't hand all my paperwork in by this afternoon, I would die a very painful death. Of course I didn't believe her until she called me at midnight, and then again at 1am and then again at…" Tony stopped talking as McGee entered the sqaudroom. Hey Tim, how's it going? You feeling good today?"

McGee dumped his stuff on his desk and turned around. "I feel dandy Tony, why the concern?"

"Dandy who says Dandy?" Tony replied, playing with his pen.

"Tony fears for his life because he has not turned in his paperwork for over two weeks" Ziva smiled

"I was busy" he retorted. He turned to McGee. "Vera, from accounting, she came up to me with her freaky man hands and said I'd die a painful death if I didn't hand all this in tonight. Apparently she's got a hit list, I'm number one and its wabbit season"

"Who was second" Ziva laughed

"Who's on first" Tony replied


"Yeah, he's on second"

"Sorry? Ziva asked

" No, I don't think he's on the team." Ziva just stared back at him, Tony sighed. "Ziva it's a classic, Abbot and Costello, Who's on first, what's on second, I don't knows on third. Oh come on Ziva!"

"Yeah, I think almost everyone's knows it Ziva" McGee chimed

"Today's catcher, Tomorrow's pitcher, I don't care is short stop." Tony continued

"And get back to work if you want to live is outfield?" McGee smiled

"Just Google it Ziva, now stop distracting me from my paperwork, I'm not planning on dying tonight." Tony said, turning his attention back to the mountain of papers covering his desk.

"I've got a distraction for you Tony" Gibbs said walking in "Dead sailor on board USS Seawolf, let's go" He continued leaving out the other side.

The three quickly began to gear up, but paused.

"Are we going to the sub Boss? Tony asked

"To MTAC" Gibbs replied from the landing above them, continuing to climb the stairs

"On your six Boss"