Summer Vaycay (wtf? Where did that come from?) at last. Well, technically my last day of school was on the 24th of June but... I haven't really felt like updating this until now. Okay then, hope you enjoy!

Tony was bored and sore. After hearing the gunshot, he had found it difficult to concentrate on the magazine and had set it aside. Not to mention the desk and handcuffs were not being the least bit merciful on his back. But this fact wasn't really important, as all he could think about was that DAMN gunshot.

Obviously it wasn't someone coming to their rescue. Creepy Voice had mentioned that Ziva needed punishment. Had the shot been meant for her? No. No, of course not. He pushed those thoughts out of his head. The shot had sounded from above, which meant it had to have come from Vance's office. Or MTAC.

Tim's arm was throbbing. The bleeding had stopped though, thankfully. It was freezing down there in the Cyber Crimes Unit. Unsurprising, seeing as it was in the basement. But he couldn't remember it ever being that cold during his four month stint there a few years ago. Maybe Creepy Voice and his goons had meddled with the heating systems.

McGee heaved a sigh. At least the goons had finally left him alone. Unfortunately, he was about as far from any of the computer stations as he could possibly get. Even if he could have gotten to his feet somehow, stretched as far as physically possible, there was no way he could reach even the stray rolling chair ten feet away. It was impossible.

And though he tried his damnedest not to, he kept thinking that this was probably the end. They were going to die here. Even the feared and fearless Leroy Jethro Gibbs seemed to be felled by this anonymous villain.

Villain. McGee scoffed. Here he was, probably about to die in the frigid tech-filled basement of the NCIS building, and thinking about the situation like a novelist. Like this was some book or movie. Though it would make a pretty good one, Tim thought. Another sigh heaved. It was something to contemplate, at least, for the moment.

Pete had not spoken a word since Laura Albritton's death. His chin pressed against his chest, brown eyes cast sullenly downward. The others couldn't blame him. His partner's bloodied corpse was cooling not eight feet from where he sat. If Gosweiler never reentered MTAC after this ordeal was over, they would not be surprised.

"Do you think they've killed the others?" Jimmy asked, resignation in his tone.

Gibbs shook his head slowly. "No, Palmer. They're fine."

"How can you be so sure?" The ME's assistant challenged.

Gibbs was slightly taken aback by this. But only slightly. "My gut," Gibbs grunted. "I feel it in my gut."

Palmer did not have the energy or the stupidity to challenge the former Marine any further.

There were only three of them left. Three people. Three dolls. Three verses of that macabre poem. Then Creepy Voice would end his game and let them go. Or kill them. Either way, one of them would never finish the game. Laura Albritton would not be making it out of there alive. None of them wanted to believe that their friends- their family- had met a fate akin to Laura's.

The loathsome crackling sounded again. It was inevitably followed by the robotic voice. The lights did not go out. There were no drugs and no beatings. Were they becoming careless? Or just bored?

"Hello, my darling playthings. And how are we all doing? Well, I hope." There was a static-filled pause. "It's just about time for the next person to go," he told them. "Who's ready?" Creepy Voice said no more. There was a click and then silence.

In the next minute, two of the men dressed in black, balaclavas adorning their heads, entered MTAC. One took a doll while the other injected Palmer and began untying him as soon as his body fell slack. Pete and Gibbs watched on helplessly as the two dragged the young man from the room. Then they were gone, doors slamming shut with a note of finality.

The speakers crackled back to life only five minutes later. The game was speeding up.

"Ah that dear Medical Examiner's assistant. I have fun plans for him," the voice practically purred. "Now, for more of my wonderful poem.

Three NCIS agents with nothing to do,

I removed the M.E.'s assistant and then there were two

Fabulous," it boasted. "See you soon." Then it was quiet.

Palmer blinked as the veil of blackness surrounding him gradually dispersed. His glasses no longer rested comfortably on his face. In fact, they were not anywhere on his person. Nor were his shoes. But he did not need the glasses to realize something was not right. He was curled into a fetal position in the center of the squadroom's break room and was incredibly stiff.

Palmer tentatively slid his hand along the floor around his face, seeking his glasses. He did not find them. Carefully, he pushed himself up and squinted. He could see a few blurred objects on the floor in front of him. He could just discern that he was currently facing the door and that it was open. Wide open. Was this some sort of trick? Why leave the door open for him to escape? He considered the possibility that there were men with guns and knives waiting just outside, ready to pump him full of lead and then chop him into tiny bits. Jimmy shuddered at the thought of being diced up like a tomato. Like the meat puzzle from all those years ago.

With a shaky exhale, he maneuvered onto his hands and knees and began crawling silently toward the nearest blurry object. He was unable to hold back the scream as a sudden burning pain ripped through his entire being. Faster than he would have thought possible, Palmer leapt back into the space that he had previously occupied, shaking and panting heavily.

Had he just been electrocuted? By what? He brought his palm up to his face and observed the thin, red burn line running across it.

Crap.

He backed up further, only to be shocked again. Palmer yelped and scooted away, tenderly rubbing his burnt foot. Now he wished he had his glasses. Slowly, he got back on his hands and knees, bending his elbows to bring his face closer to the ground. Then he turned a full circle, taking note of the intricate arrangement of wires surrounding the roughly three feet by three feet space he was occupying. He also found that an object seemingly similar to the blurred ones he noticed before was resting only a couple feet away. It was a small, rectangular, black box with flashing red light and a small screen displaying what he assumed to be a voltage level, though he could not make out the numbers. And he was not especially eager to crawl over and find out, either.

So Palmer stayed where he was, in an upright fetal position in the center of his safe square, as he ruminated over the situation.

Tony had not noticed the autopsy gremlin being dragged quietly down the stairs behind him. He did hear the distinctly Palmer-like scream that came only twenty minutes later. What the hell was going on?

The lights stayed again. Two more henchmen appeared. Like before, one walked down to remove a doll. The other moved past Gibbs, heading towards Pete. But this would not be like before. The moment the second one past him, Gibbs leapt out of his chair and grabbed him. He quickly gripped the man's chin with one hand and braced the other on the back of his balaclava-covered head and, with a swift jerk of his arms, the henchman collapsed to the floor, neck snapped. He had not even had time to reach for his gun, which is what Gibbs lunged for just as the first goon turned around. This one did have time to pull his gun, but that was all he did before he was falling to the ground with a bullet hole right between his eyes.

Pete sat staring, frozen and wide-eyed, until he felt Gibbs slicing away his bindings. He snapped out of it and stood slowly as Gibbs went to grab the other gun.

"Here," Gibbs tossed the gun at Pete and made his way to the door in several long strides. "Come on."

Pete snatched the gun out of the air and flicked off the safety, jogging after the man that was practically an NCIS legend. Creepy Voice had messed with the wrong Marine, ex or not. There would be hell to pay.

Not long now until the end! Did that make any sense? I don't know. It's late as I write this so I'm very tired. Aaaannnyyyywaayyysss, thanks for reading. I sure do enjoy a good review ;)