Fic: Alienated, Chapter 4 **NOTE** Rating Change to "R"
Author’s Note: So, at this point, suspend canon on timelines for the movie a bit. What if the Autobots had shown up on Earth once before?
I figured if they were here in late 1990 or early 1991, they would have probably looked different than they did in the 2007 movie. So, for this chapter’s purpose, think 1984 animated cartoon appearances with 2007 movie personalities. I hope you all don’t find Gibbs too out of character in this chapter, but 17 years can really change a person. In Desert Storm, I thought he’d be very brash, way more impulsive, much more emotional and less in control than he is with NCIS, so that’s how I wrote him.
This chapter ended up being way more violent than I had originally anticipated, hence the rating change. However, having rewatched the 2007 Transformers movie, I realized that the Scorponok attack was really intense. This chapter was supposed to originally be posted with as an addition to chapter 3, but it just kept growing, just like the plot bunny I had for this story.
Disclaimer: *checks birth certificate* Nope. My name isn’t Michael Bay or Don P. Bellasario. None of this stuff is mine.
Chapter 4
Washington, D.C.
Gibbs strode purposefully through the NCIS motor pool, a look of determination on his face. Truth be told, the lettering on the shard Palmer had pulled out of PO Mitchell was something he thought he’d never see again. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that he’d actually seen the ancient writing with his own eyes or if it was just an injury induced hallucination.
Sliding into the driver’s seat of his issued Charger, Gibbs took a few moments to compose his racing mind. If this piece of alien metal nestled safely in his coat pocket was legit, it would mean his experience in Desert Storm had actually been real, that his memory wasn’t playing tricks on him. Putting the car in drive and peeling out at his normal high rate of speed onto the D.C. streets, Gibbs set out toward the Pentagon. In a rare moment of idleness as he drove, Gibbs let his mind wander back seventeen years to the First Gulf War.
//Flashback//
“Gunny!” Major Will Ryan trotted up to Gibbs as the Gunnery Sergeant made his way through the mess line.
“Major.” Gibbs said as he came to attention, Ryan dismissing him just as quickly. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Ryan motioned for the two to sit, choosing a table well away from any curious eyes or ears. “I need a favor from you, Gunny. I have a mission I need you on. Now I know you just came back in from the cold, but this one came straight from the top. Brass wants my best team on it, and you’re my best sniper.”
“What’s the mission, sir?” Gibbs said with no hesitation as he dug into his bread.
Ryan smiled. “That’s the kind of Marine I like. Engineers radioed in reports of wide and varied seismic activity in the desert northwest of Hafar al Batin. Now, we’re talking big, Gunny. And fast. They wanted me to send a team to check it out.”
“I’m up for the job, sir.”
“Good. Be ready tonight. We’re running a six man crew. Your helo leaves at 2200 local. Lieutenant Cameron’s going to sit this one out with that bum leg of his, so you’ll be going with Lieutenant Stemner,” Ryan said as he stood from behind the table. “Hoo-rah, Gunny.”
“Hoo-rah, sir.”
Loaded and geared up, Bravo team sat quietly in the helicopter as it cut its way through the inky darkness of the desert night. The copilot turned and held up two fingers, signaling two minutes to drop zone.
Lieutenant Stemner stood to do a final once over with his team. “All right! We hit the ground running. Remember, command said we’re looking for something that’s creating large seismic waves. It’s possibly a new weapon of Saddam Insane’s for disorienting electronics and troops. Think EMP on a budget, gentlemen. You all know your assignments, so let’s do this like Marines.”
A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ answered his instructions.
The helicopter landed and deposited its cargo. Upon dustoff, Lieutenant Stemner, Gunnery Sergeant. Gibbs, Staff Sergeant. Malone, Corporal. Johnston and Private First Class Opatz and Stone all set off northeast into the Saudi Arabian night. The team had humped it about a click before they made it to the last point of contact, an old abandoned village. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Stemner ordered the team to take a knee and grab some water. Gibbs checked his compass and found Bravo team was only about thirty kilometers from the Iraqi border.
If the Iraqi dictator was running a weapons development program, this would be a perfect place to do it. The village comprised really of only a dozen or so buildings, a small well in the center and an area to pray toward the west. Surrounding the structures was a three-foot tall wall, presumably to keep in the animals. It was remote, no one around and most importantly, no witnesses.
“Gunny,” Stemner said from beside Gibbs. “I want to set up shop here and see if these rumors have any balls. This is the point of origin for eighty percent of this shit, so I would venture a likely guess that our friends would come back to familiar territory.”
Gibbs looked around, the stars and moon lighting up the desert just enough to see about the length of a football field. “Roger that, sir. I see some hills over to the West that look mighty cozy. There’s a small outcropping of rocks along with a little cave that would give me great cover. If the rest of the team digs in here, I can provide any support we might need.”
“That sounds like a plan, Gunny. Make it happen,” Stemner said.
“You got, sir,” Gibbs responded.
Two hours later, Bravo team was firmly entrenched in the small huts dotting the village, and all traces of their arrival had been erased. Stemner had assigned two-hour watches, and it was Gibbs’ turn to keep his eye out for trouble. From his slightly elevated position on the ridge roughly fifty yards from his teammates, Gibbs began his patrol through his sniper scope.
Four hours after arriving at their location, at around 0300, Gibbs was preparing to change over the watch to Private Stone when all hell broke loose. One minute and twenty-three seconds. That was all it took to change Gibbs’ life forever.
As Gibbs was relaying his watch information to Private Stone, the Gunny started feeling strange vibrations through his body. Since he was lying prone on his belly, he felt it more clearly.
“Lieutenant, did you just feel that?” Gibbs spoke into his radio.
“Negative, Gunny. What was it?”
“I don’t know, sir, but it sure felt like a seismic shake! Did sensors pick anything up?” Gibbs responded.
A pause. Gibbs assumed Stemner was checking his equipment. “Uh, negative again, Gunny.”
“Sir, that’s odd. I swear I felt somet---” Gibbs never got to finish his thought. Up from the desert floor thirty yards from Gibbs’ position, something shot out that could only be described as a huge, metal scorpion with demonic red eyes. It immediately began shooting and stabbing at Bravo team.
“HOLY FUCK! Marines, OPEN FIRE!!” Gibbs heard Stemner’s frantic order over his comm. channel.
Not needing to be told twice, Gibbs started shooting as fast as his single shot, bolt-action rifle would allow. The Gunny didn’t have time to ponder what he was shooting, only to look at where he was aiming. Only when one of the sniper’s shots bounced off what looked to be the side of the creature’s throat did Gibbs get a look at what he and his small team were up against.
The creature - whatever it was, it was huge. Possibly thirty feet long if he stretched out, it looked like a scorpion from Earth, but with spinning claws attached to the arms and some sort of large gun instead of a stinger on its tail. It was a machine, but it seemed alive and aware. Gibbs would never forget the crimson colored eyes that turned to glare in his direction with that lucky shot. They would be the object of his nightmares for years to come, and something he truly wished he could just forget.
Not even thirty seconds in and Gibbs knew his team was in big trouble. Private Stone was dead, never even having a chance to arm himself. As soon as the bogey (Gibbs refused to say alien, even though it resembled one) punched through the sand, Stone had been impaled through the chest by its tail. Then the creature haphazardly tossed the young Marine’s body twenty yards in Gibbs’ direction. Stone died before he hit the ground, eyes open and frightened, body a mess of blood and broken bones.
Another transmission crackled over the lines. “I’m hit! I’m hit!” This time, it was Staff Sergeant Malone’s cry. Corporal Johnston and Private Opatz looked frantically around.
“Covering fire!” Opatz yelled toward Lieutenant Stemner. The sound of heavy caliber machine gun fire from the unknown being rippled through the desert night.
The Bravo team commander nodded his head vigorously as he jammed a new magazine into his M-4 and primed the grenade launcher. “Go!” Gibbs turned his rifle to try and fire in time with his Lieutenant.
The sound of whizzing and popping bullets just over their heads, Opatz and Johnston made their way toward the prone figure of Malone, the Staff Sergeant nearly unconscious from blood loss. The two Marines had managed to drag their comrade about fifteen feet before the tail of the scorpion curled ominously upward. Opatz and Johnston had only a second to react before a well-placed bomb hit at their feet.
The sand rained red.
“Gunny! I’m in deep shit here! I’m out of ammo! I’m going to try and make it to the hills!” Stemner’s panicked voice came over the radio.
“I’ll cover you, sir!” Gibbs shouted, hoping like hell at least one of them might make it. Stemner dropped his empty rifle and went for his .45. Knowing it was virtually useless against whatever it was they were fighting, Stemner had little choice. It was all the Lieutenant had left. Taking a deep breath, he made a run for it.
Gibbs watched the horrible sight through his scope. As the team’s Gunny and sniper, he tried to protect his commander the best he could. But not even the grenade rounds had done any significant damage to the creature, let alone the puny 5.56 Nato rifle rounds fired from the standard issue M-16. The M-16 was designed for urban warfare, for clearing rooms and short-range firefights. At any kind of scoped distance, a 5.56 bullet would take down a deer, but certainly not…that.
As Stemner got up to run, the huge creature looked at Gibbs and almost smiled, as if to tell the Gunnery Sergeant it wanted to toy with the humans. The Bravo team commander was able to hurdle the wall and make it about ten yards before a massive, spinning claw hit the Lieutenant from behind. He died without making a sound.
Gibbs knew he was next. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he still believed in God and heaven. “Lord, just make it quick,” he said, taking a glance skyward. As he said that, he heard the sound of projectiles being released, and then the sound of the overhang, the one he thought would be such great cover, give way under the stress. The Gunny felt the rocks raining down on him, and finally…darkness.
========
Gibbs felt consciousness slowly returning to him. As he tried to open his eyes, brightness immediately assaulted them. Wincing, Gibbs tried to sit up, only to be held down by significant pain and a gentle force on his chest. He tried to yell, but it only came out as a strangled groan.
“Take it easy,” A gruff voice said off to his left. “We’re just here to help you, but you need to let me do my job.”
The Gunny blinked hard a couple of times to clear his vision, thinking the white halos surrounding the random shapes he was seeing was a result of a good conk on the head from whatever ran him over. It did no good; the white spots remained adamantly in his field of vision. Eventually, Gibbs figured out that it must be a light shining down on him as dawn had yet to break over the horizon.
“Water,” Gibbs croaked. A canteen appeared in front of his face.
“Careful, now. Slowly,” the gruff voice said once again. “I just finished patching you up. I don’t want to have to do it again.”
“Who are you guys?” Gibbs asked, his voice clearing from the water he was slowly sipping. “And would it kill you to douse the lights?”
Gibbs heard a shuffling sound as his caretaker got to his feet, though the bright light blinding him from seeing his rescuers remained. From high above his head, he heard snippets of a conversation and three distinct voices.
“Do you think he is strong enough to see us, Ratchet?” a deep male baritone rumbled high over Gibbs’ head. “Will he understand?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know what he saw.” That was the voice of his caretaker.
“We need answers.” A third one joined in the conversation, a clipped tone to his words. “This creature might be able to lead us to Scorponok.”
Trying desperately to find his feet, Gibbs managed to haul himself to his knees before vertigo butted its way back in on his balance. Settling for kneeling and leaning back on his haunches, Gibbs yelled up, his voice getting louder with each sentence. “Excuse me! I’m still here, and I can hear you! Who the hell are you? And turn off that goddamn light!” A couple of seconds of silence, and then the light clicked off, finally giving the Gunny a clear look at his rescuers.
Gibbs nearly passed out. Again.
Craning his neck high above, Gibbs looked directly up at three gigantic alien robots that were, in turn, staring down at him. Wiping his hand over his eyes to be sure they were functioning properly, Gibbs looked a second time. Yep. They were still there. Three curious pairs of bright blue alien optics met Gibbs’ bulging human ones. Hands searching instinctively for his rifle, Gibbs’ brain was whirling a thousand miles a minute. He was stopped in his quest to arm himself as the tallest of the robots, a blue and red one, spoke.
“There is no need for that. We are not here to harm you,” he said. Gibbs recognized the voice as the one that was asking “Ratchet” if the Gunny would be okay.
This had to be a dream. A really weird one, but still a dream nonetheless. Slowing down to think, Gibbs only responded after taking a very deep and very shaky breath. If this is what Saddam Hussein was working on, Gibbs had to give the bastard credit for ingenuity. The Gunny just didn’t believe that the moron was capable of technology so advanced. This was way beyond EMPs and seismic waves.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to kill me because you wouldn’t have bothered to help me then. That’s a start.”
“It is, indeed,” the big one nodded. “My name is Optimus Prime, and these are my officers. Ratchet, my medic, and Ironhide, my weapons specialist,” Prime said as he gestured to a red and white robot and a red and grey robot respectively.
“Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, United States Marine Corps,” Gibbs said, finally finding his feet and his balance.
Gibbs took a moment to study all three of the robots, the biggest one in particular. He was the one the Gunny assumed to be in charge. Optimus Prime was huge, at least from a human standpoint. Roughly thirty feet tall, he was most certainly alien, but had an almost humanoid look about him. He had blue and white legs, a broad, red chest with what looked to be twin windshields embedded in the pectoral area, and red arms with blue hands. Prime’s head reminded the Gunny of the pictures he had seen of Japanese Samurai, with the helmet and adorning fixtures.
The other two robots, aside from the color differences, looked surprisingly similar to their leader. Gibbs noted with interest that, like humans, each robot was constructed differently in size, height and mass, probably conducive to whatever job they did. But, as amusing as they were, the most striking aspect of looking directly up at three gigantic alien robots were their eyes, or what Gibbs would have considered to be their eyes. Each robot had glowing blue eyes, intelligent but jaded. Gibbs couldn’t completely tell from his vantage point at their feet, but he guessed there were little tiny individual moving parts that allowed superior vision.
Finally forcing his mouth to work, Gibbs asked, “What the hell are you?”
“We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron,” Prime said.
“Uh, huh,” Gibbs said incredulously, nodding his head in shocked comprehension. “That like, another planet or something?”
The red and grey one, Ironhide, said, “Yes. But just call us Autobots. It’s easier.”
“Autobots. From Cybertron. Great,” Gibbs said. Suddenly remembering the entire reason he was out in the middle of the desert, Gibbs’ face darkened with anger, the alarm at being confronted by the Autobots rapidly dissipating. “If you’re here, then what the FUCK was that back there? My team was slaughtered by something that looked a lot like you!”
A hissing could be heard coming from the vents of Optimus Prime in a kind of mechanical sigh. “That was Scorponok. He is one of our kind, but just not of our faction. We tracked him to your planet and we hoped to get here before he did. Unfortunately, that was not the case.”
“No shit! And I lost good friends because of that!” Gibbs’ anger was about to get the better of him, his emotions nearing the boiling point. It had been a tough, long day, and it didn’t look like it was going end any time soon.
“Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we are truly sorry for what happened. If we could have prevented it, we would have,” Ratchet said as he moved around to Gibbs’ left. “But this war, the reason Scorponok was here, has been going on for millions of your years. We are not strangers to loss.”
“Maybe you should just explain it to him,” Ironhide said with a wave of a massive hand.
Prime nodded his acquiescence, and began to speak. Gibbs sat down in the sand, shaded by Ratchet and Ironhide’s shadows, and listened to leader lay it all out. The Gunny learned about the Autobots and the Decepticons, Megatron and Prime and their constant battle, and the Allspark, the source of Cybertronian life.
As Prime finished his monologue, Gibbs blew out a big breath. Despite his distress and awe in regards to the Autobots, his gut told the Gunny to trust the strange beings. “So that…thing, that Decepticon. He was here looking for the same thing you want. Did you find it?”
Ironhide shook his head. “No, though we haven’t looked yet. We found you under a large pile of rocks and have been attending to you since.”
“Scorponok was sent here to look for the cube and he will not leave until he finds it, so it still exists somewhere on Earth,” Ratchet added. “We only know it’s here in what you call a desert.”
Gibbs snorted. “Well, if that’s all the intel you have, your military intelligence sucks. There are a ton of deserts on this planet, and not all on the same continent. Maybe you should have studied a map before you landed,” he added sarcastically.
“We were just following Scorponok,” Ironhide ground out, barely resisting the urge to pummel the small human. Gibbs waved his hand dismissively.
“Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we tell you all of this only because you survived an attack from one of the most ruthless and deadly Decepticons there is. We believe you deserve at least an explanation,” Prime stated matter of factly, trying to deescalate the growing tension.
“Yeah, and I appreciate that, but I’d rather you just point me in the direction of the nearest U.S. base, and I’ll be on my way,” Gibbs said and then mumbled under his breath, “To the biggest case of bourbon the world has ever seen.”
“Scorponok is still in the desert, and he will want to finish what he started. It’s not safe,” Ratchet said.
Gibbs moved toward his dented helmet and shredded body armor. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”
A large metallic foot came down with enough force to shake the ground directly in front of him. Gibbs looked up into the optics of Ironhide.
“Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we need to know what you know. Talk,” Ironhide said gruffly, his heavily armored arms crossed over his chest. Bedside manner was not something anyone could ever accuse Ironhide of having.
Gibbs’ emotions rollercoastered once more. “Talk? You want me to talk?! All right! I was ordered out here for a routine check of the area, when this metallic demon came flying out of the sand. He killed my team, all five men, and toyed with us. He looked right at me when he killed my Lieutenant, almost daring me to help him. I’m a Marine! We don’t leave people behind, and it…” Gibbs trailed off as he sank down back into the sand. His voice quieted considerably. “It killed them all and it did it for fun. I watched it all happen and I couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.”
“Sacrifices in war are often great. How we respond to them writes our true nature,” Prime said stoically, his optics softening with understanding as he gazed out toward the stars. Apparently, war touched all beings in the same way: with hurt, sorrow and regret.
Gibbs jumped to his feet again. “But I didn’t ask to be here! I appreciate the help and the fact that you saved my life, but this,” he gestured toward the Autobots, “is not what I’m trained to fight! Hell, I don’t even believe in aliens!”
“I understand this new revelation is overwhelming, but time is important. We need your help in locating Scorponok so we may neutralize him and find out what he knows. We have very little knowledge of Earth, as technology here is nowhere near as advanced as our own,” Prime said. “I ask you soldier to soldier for you help, for Scorponok will not stop until he accomplishes his mission or is stopped by us.”
Gibbs sighed. An internal battle raged. He knew Col. Ryan had men out looking for him, men whose lives he was endangering by not reporting his status. But, that thing, the Decepticon that had massacred his squad deserved some pain for all he did. And if the Autobots didn’t find Scorponok…Gibbs shuddered when he thought of all the soldiers that may die needlessly because of it.
Squaring his shoulders, Gibbs turned toward the Autobot leader. “All right. Tell me what you need.”
Optimus smiled behind his faceplate. “Just show me where he was, and tell me about Earth.”
An hour later, Gibbs finished debriefing the Autobots on what he knew about Scorponok and had spent the majority of the time teaching the Autobots as much as his limited knowledge would allow about Earth, its people and customs, and geography. The Autobots looked pleased with the information and Gibbs desperately hoped it would help.
After obtaining the information they needed, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide and Gibbs set to the grim task of retrieving the remains of the five fallen Marines killed in the attack perpetrated by Scorponok. Each went about their assignment silently, Ironhide and Prime gently carrying each body to Ratchet, who cleaned and covered the fatalities as best he could with the extremely limited supplies Gibbs was able to scavenge from the village. The Gunny gathered any personal effects he could find, along with the dog tags of each man, all the while trying desperately not to cry. He tucked each item with reverence into the innermost pocked of his uniform, intent on the family members of his fallen comrades receiving the letters personally. In a gesture of understanding among soldiers, Ironhide provided Gibbs with the exact latitude and longitude coordinates of the five men so they could be retrieved and returned home to their families stateside.
Their unfavorable duty completed, the Autobots stood back and allowed Gibbs some time alone to grieve for his lost friends. They observed the Gunny take each man’s boots and helmets, and with their rifles, form an impromptu grave marker. Five sets of empty boots symbolically lined the desert floor against the wall that had just hours ago been their perimeter. Now, it was where the men were laid to rest. The memorials lined from left to right in order of rank, each rank pin polished as best Gibbs could manage and affixed to each man’s helmet. The sentiment was not lost on the Cybertronians, as they themselves had taken part in too many ceremonies that were chillingly similar. The language was different, the species was different, but the pain and grief of losing close friends was the same. Each Autobot felt a shiver go through their bodies right to their respective sparks as they watched the Gunny struggle to maintain his composure.
As the Autobots knelt down to show their respect to the five humans who had paid the ultimate price for of their war, Gibbs grabbed his rifle that had, surprisingly, survived the rock slide. Jamming five rounds in the right pocket of his BDUs, Gibbs gave the call to order, aim and fire as he shot and reloaded five rounds in a salute to each individual man who died. Only this time, he didn’t try to stop the tears, nor did he hide them as they slid down his face.
Prime remained kneeling as Gibbs controlled his emotions once again, the mask of stoic aloofness, the one the Autotbot commander knew well, slid its way back on to the Gunny’s face. As he looked back to thank Prime, Gibbs noticed some strange symbols engraved on the side of the massive leader’s head. He assumed it to be their language, though he never did get to ask Optimus what it said. Before he could think of a proper way to form his question, Prime stood up in front of the Gunny.
“We’ve been monitoring radio transmissions in the area. There is a search party out looking for you and your team. We will take you friendly area where you can rejoin your people,” Optimus said as he took a step back from the Gunny. “Please stand back.”
A series of clicks and clangs and whirs, and the thirty foot tall sentient robot that was standing before him seconds ago had somehow changed and crammed himself into a red cab over semi truck.
His eyebrows at his hairline, Gibbs said, “That was about the last thing I was expecting.”
“I do apologize for leaving that part out,” Prime said with a lightness in his tone as Gibbs hauled himself up the steps of the Autobot leader.
“I was wondering how you didn’t start an international panic with your presence,” Gibbs responded as he settled himself into the plush driver’s seat. The Gunny let out an amused chuckle. It felt extremely odd sitting in a sentient alien robot that turned into a truck. “That’s pretty damn ingenious if you ask me.”
A low hum of agreement originated from Prime’s speakers. “Rest now. We have a couple hour’s drive ahead of us, and I suggest you use it to recharge.”
Gibbs nodded his acquiescence and dozed off in the driver’s seat of Prime’s cabin. When he awoke nearly two hours later, he immediately was able to make out the outskirts of Riyadh, Gibbs’ unit’s staging area. Pulling off to the side of the road, Prime and his officers, both in transformed vehicles akin to Japanese vans, cut their engines.
“I need to ask you a small favor, Gunnery Sergeant.” Prime’s deep voice filled the tiny, enclosed space. Gibbs gave a slight nod of his head and the voice emanating from the speakers of the cab continued. “We wish to remain on Earth as anonymously as possible, hence the use of our alternate forms. If you could preserve our secret, we would be greatly obliged.”
Gibbs snorted a laugh. “Don’t worry. If I told my CO we were attacked by a giant alien scorpion and then I met three more that were chasing said scorpion, he’d probably send to Bethesda for permanent residence in a padded room.” Gibbs looked down at his hands, still remembering the way his team was cut down. “Still not so sure I believe it myself, and I was there.”
“You lost good men. Friends,” Prime said, empathy littering the leader’s words.
“Yes. Friends that had families that deserve an explanation. And I know they can never get the real truth, but can they at least a little payback? Can you do that for me? For my team?” Gibbs asked earnestly.
Prime shifted on his wheels, straightening up as much as his alt form would allow. “I can guarantee that, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs.” Gibbs nodded his head, satisfied with Prime’s promise.
“Oh, and Mr., uh? --” Gibbs trailed off, unsure as to how to address the massive leader.
“Call me Optimus,” he said, sensing Gibbs’ confusion. “Or Prime if you want to be formal.”
“Okay, then Optimus,” Gibbs asked as he hopped out of his seat. “You know you’d be a lot less intimidating to people if you got down on their level to talk to them, right?”
“Duly noted, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I wish you the best of luck, and I thank you for your help,” Prime said. Gibbs could hear a smile in the smooth baritone voice.
“Well, if our paths ever cross again, I hope you’d remember me. And it’s just Gibbs or Gunny,” Gibbs said as he grabbed what remained of his destroyed gear from the space in the rear of the sleeper. “I certainly won’t forget you.”
A laugh came from the semi truck. “Thank you, Gunny.”
Gibbs took a deep breath and began walking in the general direction of the base. “Now, all I have to do is figure out how to explain this one to command.”
//End Flashback//
Special Agent Gibbs waltzed through Pentagon security, waving his badge at each checkpoint, and headed up to the fourth floor of the C ring. Going down the hallway, Gibbs walked right past the secretary and stopped her with one glare. Arriving in front of the final door, he paused just long enough to turn the handle. As the surprised occupant of the office looked up in outrage and shock, Gibbs strode past the oversized bookcases and laid both hands on the desk of Secretary of Defense John Keller.
“Gibbs! What the hell?” Keller asked, pulling his reader glasses off his nose. “Who gave you the right to just barge into my office without notice?”
Gibbs stepped back, his glare still firmly entrenched on his features. Digging into his pocket, Gibbs slapped the shard found in PO Mitchell on Keller’s desk.
“They’re back, John.”
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Next Up: Gibbs proves the second ‘B’ is really for ‘Bastard’ and the NCIS team finally meets the Autobots. And two chapters in as many days! If you were to clickity click that little button right there that says, “review”, it might spur me to write a little faster…