Hello! Before you start reading this story, I gotta clear a few things up. First, I did not write this story. The real charlie009d wrote it and I type and post stories for her because she doesn't have access to a computer. Second, yes, I do explain that at the beginning of every story, and it gets kinda boring after a while. So, basically I'm Charlie's Typing Monkey...yeah, that's pretty much my official title.
So if you have found your way to this story: Congrats on being awesome! I hope you enjoy the story. Now...READ ON!
It started in Pennsylvania of all places. A young man by the name of Justin had broken out of prison. No one had paid it any mind, until he went on a murdering spree. He was suddenly a celebrity. Many government agencies were after him.
He had somehow forced his way into Washington D.C. Before anyone could react, he had taken the President hostage. By that time, there was nothing anyone could do. Justin had control of the United States. He gave the citizens a choice: join him and do his biddings or be killed. Few joined him, but one person who did was NCIS Director Leon Vance, who soon became his right hand man.
Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. gazed at the Washington Monument in wonder. After all that had happened, it still stood tall. It was a reminder of what life had been like before the chaos started. It was the only thing in D.C. that hadn't been bombed. Well, other than the White House. That was where Justin lived.
The sky was no longer blue, but a dark red with ugly black clouds hanging in it like moss hanging off the side of a cliff. All of the water was polluted. It had to be coiled before it could be drunk. Food was very hard to come by. Most people had to get by on eating garbage. Dead bodies lay in the streets. Most had been killed by the bombings, but the rest had been killed by sickness, hunger, suicide, or murder.
Murder was, in a strange way, a normal thing then. It was a way of life. It happened and no one thought anything of it anymore. Tony could remember killing at least three people since the beginning of the chaos. The first one he had killed because he was trying to kill him. The second because she had tried to steal his food, and the third he killed because he had been stealing their food.
Tony tried not to look at the destroyed NCIS building as he walked past it. He had been lucky, he had been on his lunch break when the building was bombed. His coworkers hadn't been so lucky. They were gone, every last one of them.
He turned down an alley and found a fresh stiff in his was. The dead man couldn't have been older than thirty. He had long dirty hair like most people did, but he had a handsome face that could win any woman over. He wore a nice leather coat and holey jeans.
Tony ruffled through his large pocket and took out his knife. His boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had given it to him when he first began to work at NCIS. It was his most prized possession, not only because the person who had given it to him was dead, but because it was his most useful survival tool.
Tony cut the man's throat to make sure he was dead before he went through his pockets. He had seen too many people killed because they had been jumped by another person pretending to be a dead body. Tony found a box of raisins in the stiff's pocket and he felt like he won the lottery. He would feast that night.
He continued down the alley, ignoring the rotting corpses. He stopped when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. There, sitting on top of a trash can, was a newborn baby. It whimpered and made a strange gurgling sound. Tony knew the poor thing wasn't going to make it. He turned and threw up the contents of his empty stomach. As he walked away, he heard it take a shuddering breath and then fall silent. He knew it was gone.
Farther down the road he heard the sound of footsteps. Tony threw himself onto the ground, feigning death. He watched as an old man walked past him without giving him a second glance. The man wore a long trench coat and a fedora hat. His face wasn't visible. He walked with a hunched back and a bad limp.
Tony slowly twirled the knife in his hand. Killing the old man would be a mercy kill, the new world wasn't meant for the old and weak. Maybe if he killed the man, he would find some food in his pockets. Tony decided to murder him.
He slowly stood up and silently crept toward the limping man. Tony raised his knife high above his head. He almost though lightning would flash across the sky like something from a movie, but it didn't.
Before he could bring the knife down, the old man lashed out and hit him in the sternum. Tony fell to the ground winded, but he didn't give himself time to recover. He swept the man's feet out form under him, and Tony was on him in an instant.
Out of nowhere, a young man with his face covered rammed into Tony like a ton of bricks. He mentally cursed himself for not making sure the old man was alone. The young man pounded the back of Tony's head into the sidewalk and stars exploded in front of his eyes. The young man sat on top of him and put a knife to Tony's throat.
"Riff, stop!" the old man bellowed.
The young man, Riff, climbed off of Tony and helped him to stand up. He kept his knife close just in case the changed their minds. The old man creased down his collar and took off his fedora to reveal a handsome face with ocean blue eyes and short silver hair.
Tony stared at him in wonder. After many months of believing he was dead, Gibbs stood in front of him. Tony could've hugged him, but he knew he wouldn't approve. So he gave him a lopsided grin and said it was good to see him, even though it was a lie. It wasn't good; it was fantastic.
"Who is this stud?" Riff asked, gesturing to Tony.
"A close friend," Gibbs replied simply.
Gibbs walked over to Tony and he could see that the hunched back was a fake, but the limp was very real. Tony took note of all the changes in Gibbs. He had a pale scar running across his face and he seemed to have aged at least fifteen years. But he was still Gibbs.
"Do you belong to a group?" he asked.
Tony shook his head. "No, and I don't have a partner either."
"Then you're coming with us."
Tony had heard rumors murmured through closed doors that people were gathering and creating a small civilization. He hadn't believed it at first, but Gibbs seemed to know something about it. If he believed it, then so did Tony. He was just ecstatic to be with someone he knew.
Riff stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, we can't just pick some rat up off the streets. For all we know, he could be working for Justin and is just waiting for a chance to blow all out people up."
"He could be," Gibbs ventured. "But he's not."
"So it's true people are gathering?" Tony asked.
"Yes," Gibbs said. "We, Riff and I, are," he hesitated, looking for the right word, "Soldiers, in a sense."
Riff scoffed. "You are much more than a soldier."
Tony arched his eyebrow. "What does he mean?"
"Well, Mr. Leroy Jethro Gibbs is our leader."
Tony eyed Riff. He didn't like him, nor did he trust him. Gibbs seemed to, though, so Tony decided to tolerate him. Riff had uncovered his face. He had sandy blond hair and soft greenish-blue eyes. He looked trustworthy, but he didn't like Tony, so in return, Tony didn't like him.
"Leader of what?" Tony asked jokingly. "A resistance?"
"That's exactly what," Gibbs said. "We are going to take down Justin."
Yeah, I know...it's depressing. There's even a dead baby...which I protested against, by the way. And this is not going to be a deathfic! Sure, people will die, but not any main characters. Charlie would cry for days if she ever killed off a main character. But one thing that is definitely not depressing about this story is that Gibbs is wearing a fedora...that's awesome. Gibbs wears a fedora now. Fedoras are cool. Sorry, couldn't resist a chance to quote Doctor Who.
So...love this story so much that you wanna hug a random hobo? Hate it so much that you wanna kick a puppy? Tell me and Charlie in a review!