A/N: Okay, folks, I have to apologize in advance – this chapter is a little goofy. I, erm, fell asleep watching Mean Girls, and I think some of it may have sunk in. Honestly, I matched my nail polish with my outfit (I actually put together an outfit!) this morning – I'm turning into a plastic! *Runs around screaming* So I apologize for any, erm, remarkably juvenile behavior displayed by my OC's (I think I can be excused for Tony and Sacks as they have precedent). I also apologize to any Plastics out there – or those of you who really, really liked that movie. And, now, on with the show!

** * ** * ** * **

"You know, you might as well just hand over the case file now. DiNozzo was never well known for his backbone." Sacks grinned smugly.

Summers stared at him – the nerve! Okay, fine, maybe a week ago she would have agreed with him – quite passionately, actually. But now, something was off. She didn't actually like her boss, but even she had to admit, he knew how to get stuff done. For all his sometimes flippant attitude and sometimes uncontrolled anger, he had yet to slip up.

But that was really besides the point – no one came into their territory and insulted their boss behind his back. Summers didn't even have to glance at her two partners to know they were thinking along the same lines.

It really didn't matter who this Sacks character was – he was going down.

Forrester growled as the FBI agent reached for the manila file on Summers' desk. He hesitated slightly and Bowen scooped it up, leaning forward with an unpleasant sneer.

The standoff had begun in earnest as soon as both bosses had disappeared into the elevator.

Thus far, Sacks was proving to be amusingly easy to rile. Summers called up a smirk to match Bowen's while Forrester somehow managed to loom threateningly over the taller man.

"Hmm, I see what you mean" Bowen drawled casually. "It does take a lot of backbone to attack an absent man."

Summers smirk widened as Sacks scowled at the comment. Even Forrester snorted in amusement.

"I haven't said anything that isn't true. Your boss is only here because he screwed up one too many times." Sacks paused, looking thoughtful. "I wonder how many people he did have to screw to get this assignment."

"Jealous because you weren't on his list?" Bowen retorted quickly, forestalling violent reactions from the Cajun with a bowie knife and the hulking ex-SEAL. Bowen needed to keep those two satisfied by prolonging the word game (as long as he kept scoring evident hits) while not over agitating the FBI agent. It wouldn't do to have a fist fight break out in the bullpen.

While Summers could deliver her fair share of scathing comments, she didn't have the emotional control to excel in any verbal sparring. Forrester never seemed to have much use for words in any case. No, it was definitely up to the lawyer to keep this fire under control.

Briefly, he wondered why they all felt so protective towards their boss's reputation. Last time he had checked, he'd felt much the same way Sacks did about DiNozzo. Maybe it was just because he'd felt a rather intense dislike of Sacks the moment he'd set eyes on him.

"What do you know," the olive skinned agent spat out angrily, "what do you know about your Boss? I don't suppose he told you why he was transferred from his old team? Or about the murder charges? How about his two year stints at three different PD's? It's amazing Gibbs kept him as long as he did!"

Behind the fuming agent, Forrester decided that he'd had enough. He didn't believe anything the other man was saying – or, rather, he didn't doubt that there was some kernel of truth in his words, but not enough for them to actually be valid. The Boss wasn't a predictable man, and he wasn't a pleasant man, but he was a damn fine Team Lead, and an apparently capable investigator.

He was confident in his assessment of the man. Summers and Bowen weren't though. Forrester knew he needed to stop this before Sacks managed to poison the younger agents' opinions of the Boss.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He acted before Bowen had a chance to formulate some kind of response.

Grabbing Sacks by the shoulder, he spun him around and clocked him on the jaw. He studiously ignored the indignant glare from Bowen and the slightly jealous one from Summers.

Stunned, the FBI agent toppled to the ground, wincing as the ex-Navy man bent down over him, close enough to count nose hairs. Forrester whispered his threats – not wanting the other agents to hear.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony frowned. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he sensed something off. Glancing at Toby, he confirmed that he wasn't the only one. Nonetheless, he kept his casual attitude as he strolled over to his team's little corner. Rounding the bend, he saw what the gray partition had partly concealed –

Two of his agents bending over Forrester and Slacks.

"Hey, Boss!" Tony narrowed his eyes. That was a bit enthusiastic for Bowen.

"You should really watch your step. Be more careful." And that was extremely verbose for Forrester. Tony eyed his agents suspiciously as the ex-SEAL helped Fornell's agent to his feet. Strange, Summers hadn't said a word.

He glanced at Fornell again. The older agent raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Well, he shrugged, he really didn't care, either. They seemed to be behaving now. He could grill them later.

"So-" he prompted. Fornell nodded and turned to the recovering agent. Funny, he was rubbing his jaw now.

"Sacks, give DiNozzo the file. It's NCIS juri now."

Sack's jaw popped open, snapping shut only after sending Forrester a furtive glance. Tony's suspicion intensified.

None of his agents would have actually hit Sacks, would they? Cause that's what it looks like. He thought dryly. Too bad it wasn't me – I think I'm jealous.

"Now, Agents Sacks!" Fornell barked in such a Gibbs-esque manner that Tony had to stifle a giggle.

Giggle? Maybe he'd been hit a little harder than he thought.

Well, whatever. Jimmy'd patch him up – maybe.

For now though, he had to start training his team to anticipate. He grinned inwardly as Summers snatched the files from Agent Slacks. The FBI agent opened his mouth to complain, but was interrupted by a rather delicate cough from Bowen. Agent Forrester took half a step forward.

"Well, best of luck, DiNutso." Tony redirected his attention to the older man. Tobias would be a good ally, and he'd keep his word. Tony and his team would catch the assassins, and Fornell would keep him updated on the serial case. "I'll get the rest to you when we get back," the agent finished cryptically, glancing warily at his strangely subdued second. He was obviously thinking it was high time to get the hell outta Dodge.

"You know your way out, Toby. I'll call you when the interrogation rooms are full," Tony stated smugly, knowing that his arrogance would piss off the sidekick.

Strangely enough, Sacks cut off another steamy response. This time, though, his eyes darted off in Summers' direction. Tony was half a second behind – damn head injury – but he still caught the briefest glimpse of something shiny and serrated.

Shaking his head slightly, Tony turned his mind to the task of getting his team started on the Ring of Thieves – er, assassins – case.

** * ** * ** * **

"Right. Your total is 7.93."

While grumbling a bit about the price of food these days – honestly, eight dollars for a burger and fries? – Tony groped around his pockets for his wallet.

His nice brown leather wallet that had been a going away gift from Ducky.

The very same wallet that wasn't in any of his pockets.

Frowning, he thought back to the last time he'd had it.

Coffee.

This morning, after the incident he'd gotten coffee… which the waitress had said was on the house after handing him her phone number.

Damn.

He remembered pulling out some cash while waiting in line during his first attempt at getting a coffee. He hadn't dropped it. He knew he hadn't dropped it.

No, his wallet, along with all his credit cards, ID, and his badge – damnit – had been safely in his pocket long before the hold up.

The only explanation – he groaned, eliciting a glare from the cashier – was that it had been lifted off him.

He snorted. Only a true opportunist would make the effort to pick someone's pocket while robbing a coffee shop. He re-affirmed his resolve to never be caught at a decent coffee shop again – unless it had a top of the line security system. Or was situated right next to a police station. Or both. Yes, both sounded good.

Scowling to himself, he glanced over at Forrester and lifted his eyebrow. His agent kept his face carefully blank, but DiNozzo could still tell that the man wasn't one bit happy about this new imposition. He could practically hear Forrester thinking that it should be enough for his boss to be completely indifferent to all of society's niceties at work. But on break?

Nevertheless, the ex-SEAL stepped up and, without saying a word, paid for Tony's lunch.

It was good to be boss.

With a sigh - it was bad to have your life, erm, badge, stolen - he thanked Forrester and mentally postponed the trip to the Howler. First, he needed to talk to some idiot LEO's about the Stick up in the Coffee Shop.

For some reason, he couldn't muster his usual humor.

He was just pissed.

** * ** * ** * **

The Boss was a slave driver.

Summers, being a cop in New Orleans, had seen a lot of messy cases that led to long, frustrated all-nighters. Cases where the tension was so real that even the most laid-back person would snap at the slightest provocation. She'd been worked to the bone by dried-up angry cops, decades on the force sapping away any kind of humor that might have eased the situation.

The Boss was worse.

She glared down at her pile of reports. DiNozzo had gruffly ordered her and Bowen to stay in the office and find him a solid lead – preferably one that connected the McLane case to the one that that FBI bastard had dumped on them, before storming out with Forrester in tow.

She had been sitting here with only Bowen and a pile of boring reports for company for the last two hours. A startled gasp from across the office area attracted her attention. Bowen was gaping at a rather nondescript piece of paper.

Curious, Summers wandered over to his desk, peering over his shoulder.

As soon as she caught sight of the letter it was her turn to gasp.

The Letter.

Shit. Every cop who'd been on the force five years ago would recognize that letter.

Re-reading the cryptic threat, Summers found herself morbidly fascinated by the fact that DiNozzo had only been here for two weeks and already he was receiving death threats.

From a rather infamous serial killer.

Again – shit.

Why the hell would The Letter Writer want DiNozzo's "pretty little tongue silvered on a star shaped platter"? And what did "the fox with the sliver coming to his grave" mean?

Chilled with trepidation, Summers reached for her phone to dial an all too familiar number.

** * ** * ** * **

A/N: Okay, I know this is a kind of short chapter – and after the long wait, I feel kind of bad about it. But I hope the evil suspense (at least I hope it's evil) sort of makes up for it. Oh, and 1,000 points to anyone who can guess what the Letter Writer's message means. I hope to have another update soon.