And here's part two.

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Jackson materialised at the jump point in front of the Capitol. He stood looking up at the white building, just glad to be breathing the air of his own world. Suddenly he felt something white hot graze his cheek and he immediately slammed himself to the floor, dragging the girl down with him. It was only then that he noticed all the guards around the jump point seemed to be gone, and he was surrounded by figures all in dark clothes and masks. The girl struggled to get up but he pushed her down, only to have another shot pass just a whisper away from the top of his head. He realised they needed to get some cover, and fast. The only thing that was stopping the attackers aiming properly was the distortion barrier surrounding the jump platform, it was sending all their shots just a little off. But it would only be a matter of time until they realised this and compensated. There was a statue to the left of him and he ran towards it keeping low, until he and the girl were sheltered behind it. He wasn't sure who they were but he thought he could make a good guess. They were NCIS.

Tony could tell which apartment was Abby's as soon as he entered the building. The loud rock music seeped through the walls and was a dead give away. He knocked and then waited. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.

"Abby!" he called out getting a bit frustrated. Suddenly the music stopped and there was silence in the hallway. Tony could hear his ears ringing. Then the door opened in front of him to reveal a Goth girl grinning widely at him.

"Tony," she said enthusiastically stepping forwards and hugging him.

"Come in," she said dragging him by his hand and then closing the door behind her. He stepped into an apartment that was Abby to a T. The walls alternated between black and red, and from what he could see of her furniture, the couch and the chairs lying around, the whole apartment was themed in those colours.

"How are you?" she asked him as she continued dragging him and then pulling him down on her couch. She plopped herself down next to him.

"I'm good Abby, you?"

"Alright…I guess. I had another call from the government the other day though," she said pulling a face."They still want me to join them, after the amount of times I've said no you'd think they'd just quit it and leave me alone.

"They won't. You're too strong an enabler for them to just give up. And with the amount they lose each year, they always need more." Abby shuddered.

"So what are you here about?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Whenever Gibbs or NCIS sends you to request my services you always get the same guilty look in your eye. You have it now." He rolled his eyes at her.

"Okay, we do have something we'd like your help with."

"Sure thing."

"It's a bit different from usual," Tony said.

"Yeah?"

"We're going to Washington DC to try and stop Jackson from bringing back a dead child. He claims that a child will hold over ten times the amount of power than that of an adult. It's more dangerous than the other missions we've been on, the place will be swarming with people who'd just love to lock us up. If we get caught…."

"I'll help."

"You don't have to, we can find someone else."

"But this is important. If we don't stop him it'll be the start of a new and worse brand of Necropothy. It'll also make it a lot easier for them to get you guys. With that much power, they can just set up a worldwide search and have you found in days. I'll help, now stop trying to talk me out of it."

"Alright. Thanks, we have a meeting at my house tomorrow to discuss the final stages of the plan, you should probably join us."

"I'll be there, count on it."

The morning after the meeting Tim went to see Black Lung, their contact for gaining false identities and Necroth passes. Black Lung was the only name this guy would allow any of his clients to know, he had a very understandable fear of being caught, and always insisted on a code name. They had obliged him. Not that it would make that much difference if the Necroths caught him and memory scanned him. Although the name NCIS implied that they were all immune to memory scans that wasn't quite true. The five original founding members' were non-controllables; himself, Gibbs, Tony, Ziva and … Kate. (Kate had been caught by Necroths a few years ago and although they wouldn't have been able to read her mind, he was sure that wouldn't have stopped them convicting her of treason. They had probably either killed her or kept her locked up in a small cell deep underground.) But NCIS had grown since the original days. They had contacts with people who could be controlled and who also hated Necroths and the ideas they represented. A few hundred people scattered all over the world, the only resistance to survive more than 6 months.

NCIS wasn't a full time occupation; they all had other jobs and occasionally passed on relevant information to the others. Gibbs was an ex-marine and thus still had contacts in the marines. He also ran a boat building business. Tony was a movie director and he came into contact with famous actors, his status allowed him to pick up gossip from the high ends of society. Although his movies were mainly watched by non-Necroths, he was still well know. Tim bet that none of his actor friends would ever suspected Tony DiNozzo of being a member of NCIS let alone one of the founders. Ziva was a spy for her sub-government, and if she came into contact with some useful information she would usually pass it on to them. And Tim himself? Well as a journalist he had access to all the news as it happened, before anyone else. He had also written a book under a pen name, a book supporting NCIS and explaining what they were doing. It was a banned book in every Area, but somehow new copies just kept turning up circulating among the non Necroth population.

Black Lung was one of their contacts. Tim slipped down a backstreet and walked up to a small inconspicuous wooden door set into an alcove in the wall. He rang the bell and then waited a while, hearing creaking and thumping noises. He presumed it was Black Lung checking his security cameras, and then the peep hole. After a minute the door slowly slid open.

"Tim?"

"That's me. You going to let me in?"

"Oh, yeah," Black Lung stepped back and allowed Tim to walk into a dimly lit room. A desk stood in one corner with a lamp shining light on piles of paper and tools, tools that could make and entirely new person.

"What can I help you with Tim?"

"I need full ID's, ones that will get us access to Necroth cities. They have to be up to the highest standard, no mistakes."
"Got it. You have any specific pictures or names you want me to use?"

"You can use the pictures from last time, it doesn't matter what names. I need one for Gibbs, Ziva, Tony, Abby and me."

"Sure thing, no problem."

"And I need them by 6.30 tonight."

"What!" he made a straggled noise.

"If anyone can get his done I know it's you. And we'll pay double the normal rate for speed."

"Hhhmmmm, if I stop some of my other projects I could get them done. Where do you want to collect them?"

"Just leave them in the normal place." Black Lung thought for a second.

"Half payment now, half on completion."

"Okay," Tim said and pulled out of wad of cash from his pocket that he had taken from the NCIS treasury. Black Lung counted it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Get the ID's there on time and you'll get the other half," Tim said as he walked towards the door.

"You'll have them on time," Black Lung paused. "And be careful."

"Huh?" Tim said turning back

"I don't know why you need full access passes but I'd say it means you're planning something big. Don't get caught. NCIS is one of the few places where someone who hates what the Necroths are doing can have a chance to contribute to stopping them. I may just be a paranoid identity forger who sits in the dark but it would be a loss if NCIS was to be taken down. Especially after lasting so long."

Tim looked at the surprisingly perceptive man sitting at his desk.

"Evil is made up of lots of little things and every time you stop someone being brought back, however insignificant they may seem, you're fighting back. And that means something. Even an unimportant average everyday person has the right to stay dead."

"I'll be careful," Tim said and walked of the door. Leaving the man who was anything but average, to do his work.

Ziva really did not want to do this. She really didn't. Sitting in the passenger seat of the van pulling up to the laboratory, she wanted to turn back, but knew the people at NCIS were counting on her. She'd given them information before, but she'd never stolen anything specifically for them.

The compound was made up of a few grey buildings several stories high. The space in between them had several patches of grass and concrete walkways, to provide easy access between buildings for people in the compound. The whole compound was surronded by a wire fence with caremas at different intervals. There was a guardhouse at the entrance to the compound occupied by a man in military uniform, he was in his forties and slightly chubby. The driver drove up to the guardhouse and pulled out their pass, showing it to the man. He looked at it closely, and then waved them through. They drove round the side of a building until they reached a large door several feet wide by several feet wide.

"Come on then," a voice interrupted her musing. "Get these things in the building as quickly as possible." The driver sitting next to her didn't know she was a spy or a member of NCIS, he just thought she was just a good worker. She got out of the van, swinging her handbag over her shoulder. She didn't usually have a handbag, but this one contained more than makeup and money. She loaded the trolley with boxes from the back of the van, and then wheeled it up to the large door. She paused for a second and then pressed the buzzer. The door swung open for her and she stepped inside a ware house. It had high ceilings and metal walls, and inside it contained with lots of racks and shelves filled with boxes of spare chemicals, arranged alphabetically. Ziva checked the labels on the boxes and started unloading them, working quickly so she would have time to look around. If she was inside too long her boss would get suspicious.

After a few minutes she had finished putting all the boxes on the right shelves and so she crept towards the opposite end of the building. There was a door in front of her, one which to the best of her knowledge should lead further inside the building. Security inside the building was fairly basic, cameras and alarms. Most of the money Jackson's company used for security went on stopping people getting in, so once you were in, the hard part was over. She opened her handbag and took out a lab coat and ID badge. She shrugged into the lab coat and clipped the ID badge to her chest. As long as you walked with confidence and looked as if you fitted in, they didn't really question you. She felt for the holster around her ankle which contained her Sig, well it was always reassureing to have a gun as well.

She walked through the door and into a corridor. She had memorised the floor plans of the buildings, so she knew that to get to the offices of people with higher clearance, she would have to cross over into another section of the compound. She headed for the nearest exit, and then walked across in the open air to the next building along. She entered that building through a fire exit and turned around a corner to find the corridor she was looking for. There were several doors along it, and she knew they all belonged to people who had high clearance. She thought her best bet for finding the information she was after would be to get access to one of their computers. She walked up and down the corridor slowly, watching the doors until she saw someone leaving their office.

She nipped inside and saw that the computer on the desk in front of her was already logged on. That would save her time but it also meant the person leaving the office wouldn't be gone long. She opened up the windows and searched through logs of meetings getting more and more frustrated as her search still turned up nothing. Just as she thought she'd have to give up, she found what she was looking for, buried in a password protected sub-folder in the shared area. She saved the document to a memory stick, and then slipped it into her pocket. She closed down all the windows she had opened, and walked to the door. She had the information; now all she had to do was make her way back to the van and Jack, the driver. Just as she was about to pull the door open, it opened in front of her as the original occupant of the office returned, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He looked at her suspiciously.

"What are you doing in my office?"

Enablers: People from earlier times might have called them witches or wizards. They use words to affect the state of the world around them, although it often takes great amounts of energy. This energy comes from within the enabler himself (or herself) and some people have more natural energy than others. Using this energy severely weakens the enabler,' which is why there are strict guidelines over what 'magic' can be used without a government license. Examples of magic that need a license include mind reading, telekinesis and the sending of the dead back to their realm. The government is always on the lookout for new 'volunteers,' to help them send the dead back.

An excerpt from the glossary of 'What is Our World Becoming' by Thom E Gemcity.

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