If I owned NCIS or Maximum Ride, why would I be writing fanfiction about it? That must mean I don't own it. Use some logic people.
Kea
I woke up in a dimly lit alleyway with a pounding headache. How did I get here? I wondered that as I rubbed the back of my head, which was still half asleep as well as in pain. I looked toward the sky, and noticed it was almost noon. Oh shit, it's daytime. The previous night came rushing back to me, slightly giving me a much bigger headache. Ari had found me, and brought with him Flyboys and Erasers. I don't remember if he had come to kill me, or to capture me. I decided it didn't matter, so I shouldn't waste time trying to remember.
I flew away from the fight, and stashed my stuff in a tree before returning to the fight. Ari had a gun. He shot me multiple times. That must be why my body felt so sluggish. I ran down a series of streets and alleyways and eventually lost him. I must have collapsed at some point. Luckily Ari didn't find me again.
The bad thing was I couldn't remember any details. Details that might help me prepare for future encounters with him. How many were there? Did Ari have the gun at the beginning or did he pick it up somewhere? How did he find me? Did he mention some kind of information I could use? How many times exactly did he shot me? Did anyone see Ari and his minions flying around? More importantly, did any one see me? Also, why a gun? Ari had claws and teeth to better tear me apart. Why use such a mundane weapon.
I dismissed the questions and went to checking my body over. I was sore, but my wounds had mostly healed. My clothes were covered in blood though, which was a problem. If anyone saw me like this they would automatically assume the worst. The worst being that I had murdered someone. I pushed myself to my feet and my headache gradually subsided. I needed new clothes, my bag, food, and some water. The necessities came first before darting off into the sky.
Taking in my surroundings, I noticed there was a clothing shop behind where I had originally collapsed. I briefly wondered if I had collapsed here on purpose because I knew I would need new clothes. I mentally smacked myself because I knew I wasn't that good at thinking ahead, especially when I was badly injured. I moved to the door, and picked the lock with some difficulty using some old rusted nails on the ground. Lots of the nails broke when I tried to force them, but finally I got the door open. This would have been easier if I had my lock picking kit which I had pickpocketed from some dumb thief. It's served me well for however long I've been out of the labs.
I went inside, keeping away from the windows, and took some clothes off a rack. I guessed these were the rejects since they were mismatched, and had obvious dying mistakes on them. I quickly changed into a tie-die blue shirt, which covered my rust brown wings completely, and some long black jeans. I turned to leave, taking the bloody clothes with me. Later I could burn them with the lighter in my bag, leaving no evidence of myself behind. I relocked the door from the inside so it looked like it wasn't forced, and shut the door soundlessly. Once I was back outside I wondered what kind of clothing store was closed on a beautiful day like today. Maybe it was a Sunday or something. Knowing the days of the week was useless information to me. I started walking down the alleyways, heading north to where I remember stashing my bag. Hopefully, my memory wasn't lying to me.
After half an hour I walked into the edge of a park, right into a crime scene. For some reason every other spot was blocked with yellow tape except for the alleyway. I didn't even realize it until I saw everyone's heads turned to me. All of them had stopped their work, or conversations to stare at me, the strange black girl carrying bloody clothes and wearing blood stained shoes. This wasn't good. Why didn't I think to change my shoes? More importantly, why didn't I think to keep the lighter on my person? Oh yeah because thought it might explode if I crushed it when I feel during some fight with Ari or the lab goons.
Cops started advancing on me, guns now drawn, and trained on me. I didn't have many options here. I could fly away and be exposed, turn into a wolf and scare them (also exposing myself), or run to the tree nearby, grab my bag in the branches, and run or again fly away.
Option three seemed the least dangerous. If I was fast enough, I hopefully wouldn't get shot again. I sprinted deeper into the crime scene to the massive tree in the center. The cops started running after me. I was right in front of the tree now. I prepared to jump and start the quick climbing up when, out of nowhere, a guy grabbed me from my right side, one of his hand toughing my breast. I felt so outraged, and annoyed, that bad things just kept happening to me. I needed a day where bad things were just a bad nightmare. I quickly wiggled out of his arms, and slapped him so hard across the face he fell down onto the ground.
"You fucking pervert!" I yelled my arms protectively around my chest, my face clearly showing rage. I didn't have much due to lack of nutrition, but I at least had something. Shopping centers told me I was between a B or C cup and I was proud to say that no man has ever touched me there, except for today. He was going to pay somehow. My mind started conjuring images of him on fire or me injuring him in some way.
"It's not like you anything good there," The guy said quietly. With my combined bird and wolf hearing I heard it as if he was right next to me. I stared down at him with a gaze that I have been told 'could burn a hole through their minds'. The guy had brown hair and brown eyes, and must have been pretty fit to catch me since I've been told that I'm pretty darn fast.
Cops had now encircled me with their guns still drawn. Damn it, I had let my rage get the best of me again. Now I had even less options, surrender, sadly, being one of them. I defiantly didn't want to get shot again anytime soon. In my mind I remembered how bad it hurt, how much blood I probably lost, and how much of an annoyance it was. So that crossed out fighting, flying away, running away, and changing into a wolf. Fists didn't do well against guns, as I had learned last night. Ordinary people were gathering around the crime scene, other cops pushing people away. Definitely can't do anything to expose myself now. I didn't need to send Ari a flashing single that told him right where he could start tracking me.
"Put your hands over your head and get on your knees!" A man with white hair and icy blue eyes yelled. Other cops had been shouting stupid stuff like this before, but I just wasn't listening. Now I was now though.
I sighed with my hands on my hips. I stared intently at the ground while the man repeated his previous statement. I was going to regret this. "I'll surrender. I will not get on my knees though," I said staring into his eyes. I concentrated solely on his mind, but I couldn't get anything from his mind. Reading minds had been my specialty since Arisa had joined us in the cages and was completely mute after the scientists had tried to recreate the complete fiction of bursting people's eardrums with yelling.
A woman with dark brown hair, tied back, and brown eyes, walked toward me. I watch her from the corner of my eye, making sure she wasn't going to try anything harmful. The lady hand cuffed my wrists, and led me to the back of a black car. My body stiffened as I put into the car, but somehow I had convinced myself to stay calm. Since I was let out of the labs, enclosed spaces weren't fun for me unless they were corners, and only on special occasions.
~An Hour Later~
I was sitting on a hard, metal, chair with a hard, metal table standing front of me, in a cold grey room with a single, bright light overhead. Across from me sat another chair exactly like the one I was sitting on. I stared into the mirror, which I guess was one of those one-way windows I've heard about. I don't know exactly how it worked, but I knew that I couldn't see through the window but they could see me. I had a sneaking suspicion that there were people in that room watching my every move. Looking for something they could use against me. Too bad there wasn't anything. I had no family, no friends, and nothing that would make me look anymore different than I already looked. So far they haven't tried to take my blood; they did take my shoes though. So far no one has talked to me.
I sat there dreaming about food. I was starving, and was struggling to fight off hunger pains as I did every other day. This being prison, I wondered if they were going to bring me any food. Or better yet, let me go. Escaping probably wouldn't be that hard. They couldn't keep me here forever anyways. Eventually they would have to do something with me, and then I would have a chance to escape.
Even through my daydreaming, my body was tense. I didn't like being locked in rooms. It always reminded me of always being trapped in the School's labs. I tried to keep my mind trained heavily on food, but it was hard. My mind kept trying to prepare itself for a fight, which I didn't want right now. I wanted to recover, be relaxed, and think clearly. Even through all my trying, my eyes automatically kept shifting around the room.
Eventually the man with white hair came in holding a white cup. He was the same man who was shouting orders at the crime scene. He started walking behind me. My ears were trained on his movements. I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, which might have been a good thing of a bad thing. He put the cup down in front of me, and continued to walk around the table to the opposite side. I could smell it was coffee, really strong coffee. My nose wrinkled at the smell of it. If it was possible, my body became tenser. Did he intend for me to drink that bitter brown liquid? I wasn't going to.
"Do you like coffee?" He asked. I shook my head, no. He took the cup back and took a sip from it. He sat down in the chair across from me. They sat there in silence for a few minutes.
"How old are you?" He asked her. "You don't look older than fourteen." I had the strong urge to yell that I was sixteen (I think) and that I just looked young for my age, but I didn't. My rage had gotten me in enough trouble for today. I didn't need more.
"Me no Inglish" I said, using an accent form a language I didn't know. I think it was Spanish though. My current idea was that maybe he would leave me alone if I pretended not to understand him. Possibly let me go.
"You spoke English earlier," He responded. Shit he was right. I had yelled at the guy for touching my boob in English. I really have to learn how to control my anger, and maybe to think ahead more. Or maybe just learn to shut my mouth.
"Know little English," I said, changing to a thick Arabic accent. I'd met this kid who was Arabic. He was one of the few who knew his origins. He told me what this language was, and bingo I knew what it was called.
"Okay I'll go find a translator then," He got up and left. A few minutes later the lady who arrested me came in. Fun…
Translation in Italics
"Hello I'm Ziva," The women said in Arabic. Amazing, he actually found a translator. I should tread carefully, and try to get out of this mess.
"Kea," I responded. I was going to try and keep my answers short. I was hoping she would give up some sort of information. Looking into her mind, I saw some details that helped me understand her a little better. Her name was Ziva David. She was an assassin from a foreign country, before her brother was killed. She was the one who killed her brother. She did it to save the white haired man. I could respect that in a way. Not that she killed her brother to save someone who could be a strong ally, but killing someone she loved because he was doing evil things.
"Kea, how old are you?" Ziva asked me. What harm was there really in telling her? Her thoughts were kinder than the man's. Well I couldn't even read the man's, but I assumed they were evil. All blocked minds were evil to me.
"Sixteen," I answered. I leaned back in the chair, and opened up all my senses.
"Really? You look younger. Where are you parents?" She did look a little shocked. I studied her a little more. If I had ignored her thoughts, and focused only on her tone and body movements I might find her a little…hard I guess would be the word. Tense, scary maybe. Defiantly someone lab would like to create. Too bad they were too stupid to get the personalities right.
"Don't know, don't care," I answered truthfully. Whatever sick people handed me over as a baby could rot in hell. I don't even know for sure if that's what happened, but that's what happened to all the other kids I've met in the labs. Well those that could remember where they came from at least.
"Then where do you live?" Ziva asked. I concentrated hard. I didn't know the address of the school, so I couldn't give that. I couldn't a random address because they could easily check it out. I could see no other way than to answer truthfully.
"On the streets," I responded. Ziva nodded her head almost as if she understood. I kept my anger under control. This woman has never had to live on the streets, so I couldn't even begin to think of how she could understand. This woman has seen people living on the streets, which isn't the same.
"What were you doing at the crime scene today?" She asked. I guess she figured she had to get down to business. Well, what she was asking before was business, but this was more serious.
"I forgot my bag there last night, and I went to get it back. I didn't realize it was a crime scene until it was too late," I responded switching to English, without any clue. Maybe they would give me back the bag, and I could leave. I highly doubted it, but it was worth a shot. Luckily, I had a pad lock on the main zipper, so no one could look through my stuff. I think that I could threaten to sue them if they looked through it or something.
"We didn't find a bag. Does the name Amy Whitehall ring a bell?" She asked. She pulled out a picture from inside a folder that was on the table. She must have brought it in the room with her. One day I would have to teach myself to focus more on the details, and not just survival. Ziva slid the picture across that table to me. It was of a woman with blond hair and blue eyes. She wore a blue army uniform that had a bunch or colored lines on the right side.
"Nope never heard of her. Is she the person who was murdered?" I asked.
"Yes," The door opened and in stepped the white haired man. Ziva got up and left, without any exchange of words. Oh shit. I just remembered I was supposed to be faking to not understand English. The white haired man went right to the chair Ziva had used, and sat down.
"So who are you?" I asked. My stomach growled loudly but I ignored it. Hunger was a common enough pain to ignore by now. He ignored my question.
"Right now we could send you to jail for disrupting a crime scene," He said. Wait…I thought I was already in jail. I should just play along.
"Yeah, I already know that. So what? Are you going to send me to jail now?" I asked. If this wasn't jail, then maybe I would have a higher chance of escape.
"No. We have a deal for you. Since you are underage, and have refused to tell us who you are-" He started. Dumbass…
"I did tell you who I am. I'm Kea," I said annoyed. Listening might have saved him some time with this, whatever this is.
"No last name?" He asked.
"Nope, I'm an orphan I guess," I responded. Once I had said it out loud, I felt chilled, alone. I was all alone. I had no one to rely on. I suddenly felt, well sad. I pushed it away and focused entirely on this evil man. That didn't work as well I wanted though because the feeling just kept coming back and back.
"As I was saying you are underage. You have two options we could send you to a top security prison, or the director NCIS has offered to take you in," The man said. This wasn't going to work. There was no way I was going to decide with my mind caught up on this 'orphan' subject, and of course I was starving.
"I want option three," I responded. There was no way I was going to live with bunch murderous adults. And I would kill myself before I went to live with some strange person that might try to kill me in my sleep.
"There is no option three," He said.
"Yeah there is. It called 'let me go," I said. Maybe putting the idea into their heads would help get me out of this situation.
"That's not going to happen," He said. Just then the door opened. There stood a lady with reddish-brown hair and greenish eyes.
"Jethro," She said to Gibbs. Interesting name he had, but that didn't make me think of him as less evil.
"Director," He responded. So this was the Director. She didn't look mean, and her thoughts seemed to have good intensions, although harsh. Gibbs left the room and the Director took his place. Wow, this was like this game called 'musical chairs' that one boy was telling me about before he died. It was when music played and everyone switched seats I think. I've never played it so how would I know.
"Hello Kea. I'm the Director of NCIS, Jenny Shepard," She said smiling. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad living with her. NO! No! I have to push those thoughts out of my head! I was going back on the streets, and find a way to take down the School. Silence settled into the room.
"Have you ever gone to school? Or had a job? When was the last time you slept in a real bed or had a hot meal?" She asked. I guessed that Jenny was trying to get me to think about how good it might be to have a home. And it was working too, but I was going to fight it the whole way.
I've never been to a real school (The lab called the school didn't count) but it sounded boring but fun. I've had never had a job (other than being a test subject at the School). I've never slept in a real bed with covers and sheets (The cages didn't have anything in them but cold metal). Hot meals were next to impossible for me. There really wasn't any way to get a hot meal on the streets, and the school gave bread and water (occasionally).
"Never had a job or a home, and I can't remember the last time I had a hot meal, never slept in a bed, never gone to school either," I responded to all her questions.
"Would you like to have those things?" She asked. I thought about it. It would be nice…but as I thought about it, it seemed like a hollow existence. Living with a strange women, going to school pretending she's my parent, eating meals without using my fingers, and sleeping in beds that were said to be like clouds.
"Sure but what's the catch?" I asked carefully. There was always a catch to this stuff.
"You have to help out here at NCIS," Jenny said. Why in the world would they want me help? The only thing I knew how to do was fight. That was it. "We can tell you've had some kind of training in fighting, and we think you would make a good agent.," She explained. "You also know Arabic, which might help when it comes to terrorism."
What gave me away? Was it my speed? Or had they noticed how hard I slapped that pervert. I just don't see how they could know that, so I kept my face like stone.
"You would be earning money that you could use on anything you want like clothes," Jenny said, probably referring to the clothes I was wearing or maybe the ones I was carrying. It was hard to tell, considering I stole both sets. The only way I was going to go along with this was on one condition.
"I like that idea. I have one condition to add to that though. My name is kept out of any reports, and my picture out of any newspapers. No records of me at all, official or otherwise," I said. Ari had connections, and so did the school. If they saw something with my picture of name then they got me. I was a dead man then.
"Why is that?" She asked suspiciously.
"I have my reasons," I responded. She had me, but I was going to fight for my one condition.
"One more question then. What were those bloody clothes from? We found wolf, bird and human blood all mixed together," Jenny asked. It was easy to tell that she wanted a reasonable answer to it. Too bad the truth wasn't reasonable. Lying time.
"I was out in the woods, and I tripped and fell. I thought I had landed in mud so I didn't think about it at all. When I got to the city I realized it was blood. I changed my clothes so no one would think anything bad of it," I explained. It was a complete lie but hopefully believable. "I think there were some people hunting earlier, and they forgot some of their catch."
"That doesn't explain why you were carrying them around or the human blood," She asked not believing it. She raised two very good points. I used some of my mental influence while I finished explaining. I always had found this as a dirty trick of my mental powers but this was a dire situation. Otherwise I would have started fight tooth and nail than use it.
"As I said I was out in the woods. Tree branches scratched my arms, and my shirt soaked up the blood I guess. In my bag I have a lighter. I planned to burn the clothes before anyone saw them and assumed the worse," I said.
"If it's your blood then you wouldn't mind submitting to a DNA test," She asked. Damn, she got me there. A test would prove I wasn't human. I needed to influence her more.
"I really don't like needles. I go crazy," I said. It was a lame excuse, but it was true. Those things were used too much in the labs for my comfort.
"We don't need blood. We can use anything for DNA," She explained. They got me cornered now. More influence.
"And what if I refuse?" I asked. "You need a warrant to forcefully take it, and you can't get one because they won't give you one with only a first name." I was right and she knew it. Just because I lived in the streets doesn't mean I don't talk to people. Some kids happened to teach others about their rights as citizens, even though we were all runaways. I used the last of my mental influence to get her to leave it at that.
"You know a lot about your rights don't you," She asked. I could tell she was annoyed now.
"Yes I do. So do we have a deal?" I asked. She was thinking it over in her mind, I could tell. After a few minutes she spoke.
"Yes we do," She said. I won and she lost.
"I want it in writing," I said lastly.