Panda: Hey, you guys, I'm finally back with a new story. I have once again decided to try my hand at chaptered stories!

Panda-Chan: Even though we all know how well that turned out the last time you tried it.

Panda: Leave me alone! I actually have a muse for this one and she will not let me down! So stop being mean and give the disclaimer!

Panda-Chan: CrazyDumbassBlonde9110 does not own NCIS or anything else that may be recognizable in this fic.

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Timothy McGee sat at his computer, clicking away as he played one his numerous online games with multiple people from around the world. The team had just finished a bad case and this was really one of the only ways that Tim could find to wind down, when he wasn't up to typing on his old typewriter, that is. He was just about to give the command for his online team to take siege of the opposing safe-house when a message popped up in the corner of his screen telling him that he had a new e-mail.

He told his allies to stand down for a few while he went to his Inbox and opened the message. He immediately wished that he hadn't. On the screen in front of him were pictures of his mother and father, tied up and gagged with bullet holes in the center of each forehead. There was evidence that they had been tortured before death; many of their fingers were standing out in odd angles and burn marks adorned every inch of their bodies. Under the pictures was a message.

Can the great MCRT stop me before I strike again?

Tim stared horrified at the pictures and the message before he lunged for his phone and dialed his parents' number.

"Please answer. Please, please, answer." He mumbled to himself, tears building up in the corners of his eyes as the phone rang a fifth time and then the sound of someone picking up interrupted the sixth.

"Hello, Agent Mcgee." The voice of a man, one that he had never heard before, answered the phone.

"Wh-who are you. Where are my parents, you bastard?" his shaking hand clutched the phone, to stop himself from throwing it against the wall or from the need to grab onto something he wasn't sure.

"Didn't you get my picture, Agent Mcgee? Now I might not be the best photographer out their but I thought they got the point across." His words were accompanied by a breathy laugh, making Tim's anger mount.

"You fucking bastard! When I get my hands on you I'm going to make you wish that you had never heard of me." Tim all but snarled into the phone as the cheap plastic creaked form the force of his hold.

"I hope you do, Agent McGee, it wouldn't be much of a game if you didn't at least try and catch me. Don't forget the other members of our game, though, that message was to the whole MCRT. You have three days before I strike again. Good luck." His words were followed by the click of the phone and a dial tone and Tim scream in rage as his phone shattered against the far wall.

For a long minute he did nothing but stand there, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breaths and his hand clenching sporadically as he tried to control himself. Eventually, though, the pictures, the message and the phone call managed to sink in and his legs gave out, sending him to the floor where he curled up and sobbed himself to sleep.

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Tim wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up, but judging by the sunlight that was streaming into his eyes it was daytime. He lifted himself off the floor and stretched the kinks out of his muscles, his back reminding him why it was a bad idea to sleep on the floor.

'Wait, the floor? How the hell did I end up on the floor? The last thing I remember was-' his thoughts cut off as he remembered exactly what happened last night and his eyes landed on the shattered phone before honing in on the computer.

The screen had gone black as it entered sleep mode and Tim took slow steps as he got closer and closer to the proof that last night actually happened. Very cautiously, as if the mouse would come to life and rip his hand open, he moved it a little and watched as the screen flared to life. His heart stopped as he saw the undeniable proof of his parents' death right there in front of him on the screen, the pictures so much clearer now that his eyes weren't cloudy from a long case. He couldn't stop the few tears that escaped his eyes, nor did he really try to, but he brushed them away as he reached for his cell phone to call the other players in this twisted little game. His Team.

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Panda: I know this chapter is short but it's kinda like the Prologue. I promise that the other chapters will be a lot longer!