Fic: Adagio for the Moon (Chapter 3/12) [NCIS 'Were!Verse]
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Wordcount: 829
'Did you really have to piss that guy off, Ziva?'
'He should not have whistled like that at me.'
'He was whistling for his dog, Ziva, not at you,' Tony said in exasperation.
Ziva frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she thought back to the scene a few minutes prior. 'I did not see a dog, nor did I smell one,' she said finally. Tony shook his head, rolling his eyes before pulling the car into a parking spot outside of Warner's apartment building. The two NCIS agents mounted the short flight of steps leading up to the door and then entered the building, Tony referencing his notepad to see what apartment number they should be looking for.
'Looks like we're looking for apartment 305,' he told Ziva. 'Let's see if any of his neighbors noticed anything weird.'
Ziva nodded and then led the way towards the manager's office, only to find that he wasn't there. Giving up on finding the manager, Tony and Ziva headed up to Warner's apartment. When they got there, they found that the door to the apartment was locked. A bad smell was coming from it, one that Ziva and Tony were intimately familiar with: death. Before they could try and get into the apartment, a nearby door opened, revealing an older woman dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with a ratty houserobe thrown over the entire ensemble. She peered out at the world from behind thick glasses, and glared suspiciously at Ziva and Tony.
'You from Sanitation?' the woman finally asked, her voice creaky and cracking. 'About time. Whatever's in that 'partment don't smell too good. You gonna take care of it?'
'Well, we've got to see what it is, first, ma'am,' Tony said, not disabusing the elderly woman from her misconceptions. 'You wouldn't know where the super is, would you? We couldn't find him in his office.'
The woman shrugged, pulling her robe tighter around her as she did so. 'That super ain't good for much,' she said. 'Hardly here on a good day, anyways. We've got to do most of the fixin'-up round here, and that good-for-nothin' super only comes round to collect the rent and fix the really big problems. Anyways, if you wanna get in there, I think Missus Johansson over in 312 has a key. She takes care of it when Mr. Warner is gone for a long time.'
'Did Petty Officer Warner ask Mrs. Johansson to care for his home recently?' Ziva asked. The other woman shrugged again.
'Dunno. You'd hafta ask her. He ain't been home for a while, though.'
'Thanks,' Tony said, giving the woman a bright smile. The woman shrugged once again and then went back into her home, muttering to herself as she closed and locked the door behind her. After a quick chat with Mrs. Johansson in 312, Ziva and Tony got the key to Warner's apartment, having shown the woman their badges that identified them as agents of NCIS.
'Ready?' Tony asked. Ziva nodded, and then turned the key, opening the door to the apartment with a latex-gloved hand. The stench of death assaulted the two werefelines, almost overwhelming their enhanced senses. Trying to only breathe through their mouths, Tony and Ziva carefully entered the apartment. The drone of flies filled the apartment; the greatest concentration seemed to be coming from the bedroom. After sharing a glance with Ziva, Tony gritted his teeth and entered the bedroom.
A corpse lay under the covers on the bed, tucked neatly in with the blankets up to its chin. Ducky would have to give an approximate time of death, but judging from the amount of flies, Tony guessed that the body in the bed had been there for at least three days, maybe more. Certainly longer than Warner had been dead, at any rate. The sight of an incongruously pristine white envelope on the bedside table caught Tony's eye, so he carefully made his way over and picked it up once he'd put gloves on.
He examined the envelope, making sure to open it with the flap facing away from him. He had grown wary of strange envelopes after that incident with the plague, but his caution was for naught. No strange powders emerged from the envelope, and from what Tony could see, all that the envelope contained was a single sheet of folded paper.
'Tony, have you found anything?' Ziva called from the living room.
'One dead guy in the bed and an envelope on the bedside table,' Tony replied, carefully taking the paper out of the envelope. He unfolded the paper, a feeling of dread starting to steal over him. His feelings were vindicated when he saw the four sentences that were printed on the paper.
Nine little werecreatures sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Greetings, NCIS agents. Having fun yet? The game's not over; there will be more.
'Ziva, we need to call Gibbs. Right now.'
Chapter Wordcount: 829
'Did you really have to piss that guy off, Ziva?'
'He should not have whistled like that at me.'
'He was whistling for his dog, Ziva, not at you,' Tony said in exasperation.
Ziva frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she thought back to the scene a few minutes prior. 'I did not see a dog, nor did I smell one,' she said finally. Tony shook his head, rolling his eyes before pulling the car into a parking spot outside of Warner's apartment building. The two NCIS agents mounted the short flight of steps leading up to the door and then entered the building, Tony referencing his notepad to see what apartment number they should be looking for.
'Looks like we're looking for apartment 305,' he told Ziva. 'Let's see if any of his neighbors noticed anything weird.'
Ziva nodded and then led the way towards the manager's office, only to find that he wasn't there. Giving up on finding the manager, Tony and Ziva headed up to Warner's apartment. When they got there, they found that the door to the apartment was locked. A bad smell was coming from it, one that Ziva and Tony were intimately familiar with: death. Before they could try and get into the apartment, a nearby door opened, revealing an older woman dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with a ratty houserobe thrown over the entire ensemble. She peered out at the world from behind thick glasses, and glared suspiciously at Ziva and Tony.
'You from Sanitation?' the woman finally asked, her voice creaky and cracking. 'About time. Whatever's in that 'partment don't smell too good. You gonna take care of it?'
'Well, we've got to see what it is, first, ma'am,' Tony said, not disabusing the elderly woman from her misconceptions. 'You wouldn't know where the super is, would you? We couldn't find him in his office.'
The woman shrugged, pulling her robe tighter around her as she did so. 'That super ain't good for much,' she said. 'Hardly here on a good day, anyways. We've got to do most of the fixin'-up round here, and that good-for-nothin' super only comes round to collect the rent and fix the really big problems. Anyways, if you wanna get in there, I think Missus Johansson over in 312 has a key. She takes care of it when Mr. Warner is gone for a long time.'
'Did Petty Officer Warner ask Mrs. Johansson to care for his home recently?' Ziva asked. The other woman shrugged again.
'Dunno. You'd hafta ask her. He ain't been home for a while, though.'
'Thanks,' Tony said, giving the woman a bright smile. The woman shrugged once again and then went back into her home, muttering to herself as she closed and locked the door behind her. After a quick chat with Mrs. Johansson in 312, Ziva and Tony got the key to Warner's apartment, having shown the woman their badges that identified them as agents of NCIS.
'Ready?' Tony asked. Ziva nodded, and then turned the key, opening the door to the apartment with a latex-gloved hand. The stench of death assaulted the two werefelines, almost overwhelming their enhanced senses. Trying to only breathe through their mouths, Tony and Ziva carefully entered the apartment. The drone of flies filled the apartment; the greatest concentration seemed to be coming from the bedroom. After sharing a glance with Ziva, Tony gritted his teeth and entered the bedroom.
A corpse lay under the covers on the bed, tucked neatly in with the blankets up to its chin. Ducky would have to give an approximate time of death, but judging from the amount of flies, Tony guessed that the body in the bed had been there for at least three days, maybe more. Certainly longer than Warner had been dead, at any rate. The sight of an incongruously pristine white envelope on the bedside table caught Tony's eye, so he carefully made his way over and picked it up once he'd put gloves on.
He examined the envelope, making sure to open it with the flap facing away from him. He had grown wary of strange envelopes after that incident with the plague, but his caution was for naught. No strange powders emerged from the envelope, and from what Tony could see, all that the envelope contained was a single sheet of folded paper.
'Tony, have you found anything?' Ziva called from the living room.
'One dead guy in the bed and an envelope on the bedside table,' Tony replied, carefully taking the paper out of the envelope. He unfolded the paper, a feeling of dread starting to steal over him. His feelings were vindicated when he saw the four sentences that were printed on the paper.
Nine little werecreatures sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Greetings, NCIS agents. Having fun yet? The game's not over; there will be more.
'Ziva, we need to call Gibbs. Right now.'