Battle of the Sheps Chapter 10: Shock and Awe, a Game X-overs + TV X-overs Crossover fanfic

For 2012, a brand new installment of Battle of The Sheps!

Chapter 10 - Shock and Awe

Jane woke up gradually, her head swimming and pounding and her body feeling like it was on fire. She forced her eyes open, and found that she was surrounded by rubble, and partially buried by it. The sight of another figure, a bloodied man buried further than her, galvanized her into action. "John!"

Artifically augmented muscles straining against sheer weight, she forced herself upwards, pushing the rubble off her legs and cringing at the effort. Her legs had been smashed up and blood soaked through her pants, but fortunately her titanium-reinforced bones hadn't snapped. She stumbled over to her fallen comrade and knelt beside him.

Quickly, Jane felt for a pulse. John was alive! Adrenaline coursing through her system, she yanked the rubble away, revealing a battered body in torn clothes. John's eyes fluttered open. He asked weakly, "Are we still alive?"

"Yeah, we're still alive," Jane replied, helping him stumbled upwards. "Even after all that, we're still alive."

Six Hours Earlier

"Find this guy," John held up the picture, "Track him to his base, and then destroy the place."

"Sounds like something out of a B-vid," Jane spat. "I think I know why, though."

"A test."

Jane nodded. "A test. Ivan wants to see what we're capable of."

Five Hours Earlier

"So, we're going to need to find him first," John said, getting down to business. "Apparently, there's a strip club this guy likes to go to-"

"No. Hell no. I am not posing as a stripper. We wait outside, then when he leaves, we'll follow him."

The strip club (probably more than that, she noted cynically) was a fancy-looking place, but Jane was sure that it was extremely sleazy inside. The windows were blacked out, which was probably a good thing. She leaned against the wall, dressed in black cargo pants, her usual long coat, leather gloves and hiking boots. A small earpiece was embedded in her left ear. A little bit conspicuous, but not too bad. Most importantly, the Desert Eagle she carried wasn't clearly visible. She tried to appear bored, as if she was waiting for someone. It was dark, so more than likely a lot of people wouldn't even notice her.

"Act like you're waiting for somebody. Don't worry, I'll be in the car if someone decides that he doesn't want to wait until he's inside-"

"If some jerk even gets that thought, I'll kick his ass."

A man in what was once a nice suit but had become ruffled and messy came up to her. He smelled of booze, was clearly quite inebriated. "Hey baby, let's say you-"

"No."

He was taken aback. "What do you mean? I've got cash-"

"I'm not a hooker," Jane spat, accentuating the syllables.

"Well, then, how about we have a nice dinner, you and me. I'm sure you'll like me once you get to know me."

"You know I'm going to break someone's neck if they piss me off enough."

"Just try to avoid doing too much damage."

He smiled and put his arm across Jane's shoulder. As soon as he did it, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. As the man shouted and attempted to wrangle free, she drew her gun and shoved it into his back. "I don't like you, and you don't like me."

"Let's not be so hasty-"

She jammed the gun in a little harder. "Leave right now, or I will kill you."

"Okay, okay!" The man sputtered. Jane let go of his arm, and he rather stupidly tried to attack her. A rather loud gunshot put an end to that, and the man stumbled for his car.

"Now that I think of it," Jane said, "Maybe a gunshot or two would speed our friend up."

John's only response had been a quiet "Mmmm..."

A crowd of men and women, some only half dressed, ran out of the door. Some simply ran down the street, others rushed for their cars. In the panicked crowd, Jane spotted their target. "He's headed for a black car, looks like a nice one."

"Mercedes," John clarified. "I've got him."

Jane headed for their own vehicle. Her pistol was back in its holster and hidden under her coat. She moved quickly but calmly, something that would distinguish her among the panicked masses but a habit that was impossible to break. She got in the passenger seat of their own silver Mazda and shut the door. The engine was already running, and they took off after the black Mercedes that their quarry was riding in.

"How are we supposed to chase him without getting caught?" Jane asked. "There's two of us and one of him?"

"We don't have to," John replied, reading the file. "This guy's paranoid. If he thinks he's in danger, he's going to head-"

"-to the safest place he knows," Jane finished. "He's going to go home."

"Hounds to the hunters. Nope, wrong metaphor."

John drove the vehicle aggressively, staying behind the Mercedes. It didn't escape his notice that the other car was also moving aggressively, speeding and dodging through traffic. Fortunately, there wasn't much of the latter to worry about.

Beside him, Jane had shrugged out of her coat and was donning an Interceptor vest. She would have preferred her own N7 armour, but it was difficult to put on quickly and someone would notice it for sure. The crude armour was not particularly heavy, but rather restrictive and of dubious usefulness. It did provide attachment points for other gear, which was handy. She moved her pistol to a hip holster and grabbed her HK417 out of the back.

"You ready?" John asked, bringing the car to a stop. They were parked on the street, near but not right beside a very well maintained estate.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Jane replied casually, stepping out of the vehicle.

"Is this really a good idea?" Jane asked, bringing the inevitable point up. "It might just get even more people after us."

"True," John agreed. "But do we really have much of a choice? Ivan's the closest thing we have to an ally here."

"Yeah, you know you're in a good position when the only person that can help you is a crime lord." She changed subjects. "Well, we don't know what the place looks like, so we'll have to think up of a plan on the fly."

"Four snipers on the roof," Jane announced, looking through her binoculars. "I can take care of that pretty quickly."

"Gate looks heavily guarded, and there's nowhere to hide along the front," John noted. "Hmm, I think we can sneak through the woods."

Jane surveyed the scene. The forest bordered on the west edge of the property, and though it was fenced, it appeared to be unguarded. Better yet, there wasn't a lot of distance from the treeline to the house. She began to pack several items from the car into a backpack. "Once we get to the house, we can rappel up the side and go in through the roof."

"And we plant these as we go," John added, holding up a block of C4 explosive. He grabbed his own weapon as Jane slung her backpack, then her M107. It felt wrong to let her carry the majority of the load, but she was actually the stronger of the two. He took his own weapon from the car and closed the trunk.

Thunder could be heard in the distance, and there was a light drizzle in the air which quickly turned into a shower. The forest was fairly dense and had few trails. The conditions were terrible, and the two very quickly found themselves being drenched in water and constantly whacked by branches.

"If I knew it was going to be so wet," Jane complained, "I would have worn my armour and damn the consequences."

"Tell me about it," John muttered.

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest. Both of them were cold, wet and miserable. Lying behind a small rise, Jane unslung her sniper rifle, loaded it, and set it up on its bipod. The angle was not that great, and if the guards had been in their proper positions she wouldn't have been able to hit them. Fortunately, they had all decided to gather in one spot, though she couldn't tell why. "Ready."

"Do it."

Jane slowly squeezed the trigger, feeling the recoil hammer her in the shoulder. She quickly squeezed off three more shots, taking down the other guards, then as an afterthought shot the one by the gate. She stood up, leaving the rifle where it was. "To the house! Move!"

They sprinted the short distance to the mansion, readying grappling hooks as they did. In turn, both of them launched their hook onto the roof. Both caught, and quickly the duo began climbing upwards.

Jane immediately found that it wasn't going to be easy or fast. Her gloves, not designed for grip at all, were wet and slick, as was the rope. Especially with the added weight of an assault rifle, body armour, and backpack full of explosives, she was heavy. However, the bullets hammering the wall beside her were motivation to move up the wall. Just when she was about to reach the top, however, the hook ripped through the gutter and let go.

She fell for a moment, then jerked to a stop. John had grabbed her arm, stopping her from plunging to the ground below. John pulled as hard as he could, and Jane struggled to push herself upward against the wall with her feet and the bent gutter with her hand. Somehow, they managed to make it onto the rooftop.

"How much do you weigh?" John asked, panting.

"One hundred and ten kilograms," she recited.

"That's like two hundred and fifty pounds!" John replied incredulously.

"You know what they say. Cybernetics weigh more than fat." Jane looked around. "Let's get moving."

She dropped the pack and opened it, tossing some of the C4 to John. They quickly placed it all around the roof. It was far from an ideal way of doing it, but would at least provide a backup if they couldn't place any more.

"Done and done," Jane said, slinging the backpack on her shoulders again. She pointed to a hatch hidden in the flat roof. "Roof access."

"I'll flash, then you drop first." John pried the hatch open, dropped a flashbang in, then shut it again. There was a muffled bang, a scream, and then he opened the hatch again and Jane dropped inside.

There were three confused men in the hallway. Without pausing, Jane shot each one of them. One of the doors, at the end of the hallway, was very ornate. There was a much more austere one to their right, and Jane kicked it open.

"Plant the explosives first," Jane suggested.

"Yeah," John agreed. "If there's a furnace room or something, that would be a good place to put it. Just toss it around. We have plenty and a bigger boom is always better."

They rushed down the stairs. Halfway down, a wrench slammed into Jane's side. It hurt quite a bit, in fact it probably would have been debilitating to most people. There was a sickening crack of a SAPI plate shattering, rendering it useless to protect against bullets. As soon as she spotted the assailant, Jane swung her rifle around and emptied the rest of the magazine into him at point blank. Blood splattered her clothing, the rifle, and the walls around them.

"They're coming down!" John shouted as his partner reloaded. He fired his own weapon into the crowd of bodyguards rushing down the stairs, running after Jane as he did so. As soon as they made it through the bottom door, he tossed a grenade in and closed it behind them.

Running towards the furnace room, they haphazardly tossed blocks of C4 around the corridor. Jane wrenched open the large steel door at the end. Furnaces, boilers, and distribution panels. Perfect. The remainder of the explosive was tossed behind a hot water heater.

John was waiting outside, weapon at the ready. He leaned against the wall beside a set of sliding doors. "Elevator, it'll get us up much faster."

"Ivan wants this guy dead, and he wants proof," John stated. "Guess we're going to have to get a picture."

"And, you know, get to him first," Jane added sarcastically. "You said it yourself. This guy's paranoid. He's going to be behind layers of armed guards and security. Where might that be..."

"His office," John replied, snapping his fingers. "His office will be secured. Either he'll be in it, or he'll be in a safe room near it."

The elevator doors opened, revealing five men with Uzis. Jane felt something thump into her chest as she ducked out of the line of fire. She blind-fired into the elevator with one hand, ripping the men inside to pieces.

"Damn," John muttered. As they ducked inside, Jane felt where she had been hit. It was bruised, but not too badly. The ceramic plate had probably saved her life. She leaned up against the side of the elevator, near the control panel, as the doors opened, then peeked out.

"All clear," she stated, then led the way toward the big door to the target's office. With a hard kick, she sent it off its hinges, and they entered with guns drawn and ready.

The only person in the room was their target. He sat behind his desk, smoking a cigar. Spotting the two, he put down the cigar and sat up straight. He had a slight Italian accent. "So, I take it Ivan wants me dead?"

"You know what they say," John replied, smirking. "Crime doesn't pay."

The man chuckled, then burst out laughing. "That... you are about to kill me and you say that? That is the most ridiculously cliched and overused line ever. That's all you can come up with."

"Time's up," Jane said snarkily, and shot him in the head. He slumped down and fell face-first onto the desk, blood forming a pool on the polished mahogany. John began to remove the camera from his vest when he was interrupted by the distinctive sound of guns being cocked.

"Put the weapons down." Wall panels had opened, revealing gunmen with assault rifles. Through the main door came a man that looked just like the one they had just killed, down to the clothes he wore. "I am Joe Moretti. I am the man you are looking for. And I advise that you drop your weapons."

Silently, the two intruders unslung their assault rifles and let them drop to the floor. Joe added, "All of your weapons, if you please."

Jane looked at John, who shrugged. An array of pistols, grenades, and a lone stick of C4 dropped to the floor.

"John and Jane Shepherd, the dynamic duo," Joe continued to gloat. "You turned to my dear friend Ivan for help. Well, perhaps we are not all intelligent enough to choose the correct side to be on."

He shrugged. "A mistake that cannot be rectified, I am afraid. If you had come to me in a more peaceful manner, I would gladly offer my friendship. Unfortunately, at this point, I have all the reason to eliminate you, and no reasons at all to keep you alive."

In a movement that might have appeared as instinctive, John glanced at his watch. Then he winked at Jane.

"So, how should I set this up?" Jane asked, examining the explosives and detonators layed out in front of her."

"Remote control, with a fifteen minute backup timer," John replied, assembling one of the devices. "That way, even if we have to run off, it'll still blow."

"No, I mean how do I do it?" Jane clarified. "I have no idea how these go together."

"Oh. That."

"Kill-" Joe began to order, but before he could finish his sentence, the world exploded around them.

"Yeah, we're still alive," Jane replied, helping him stumble upwards. "Even after all that, we're still alive."

"How long was I out?" John cringed as he attempted to put weight on his right leg. "Aaaaagh, I think it's broken."

"A while," Jane said in response to the first question. "And yeah, it's probably broken."

There was a wail of sirens in the distance, and she added, "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah," John agreed. He didn't resist when Jane threw him over her shoulders, but muttered something about it being completely backwards. "Isn't the guy supposed to carry the girl to safety, and then they get married?"

"No and no," Jane replied as they headed back towards the waiting Mazda.

Meanwhile, at CIA Headquarters...

"How's our friend?" the Director asked as Agent Lynch came into the room.

"The subject still remains uncooperative, sir. She insists that she is the director of NCIS and continually requests to converse with someone of a higher position."

"Did you get anything out of her?"

"She confirmed her name as Jenny Shepard, though it is most likely an alias, sir."

The Director chuckled. "No shit it's an alias. Jenny Shepard's been dead for years."

"Sir?"

"You ever watched NCIS, son?"

Without skipping a beat, the junior agent replied, "I've worked with them twice, once in '09 and once in '04."

"I'm talking about the TV show."

"Never seen it, sir."

"Uh-huh. I thought so."

"What are your orders, Director? Should we begin using enhanced interrogation techniques."

The Director shook his head. "No, no, there's no need. I'll go see her."

The interrogation room was much like the one at NCIS, Jenny reflected. Security camera in the corner, single door kept locked, and a large mirror that was probably two-way. Of course, the table and chair weren't bolted down at NCIS, and the walls were painted something more pleasant than ugly grey.

An African-American man in a much nicer suit than the two generic agents that had previously been in the room entered, on his own. He reached out with his hand, which Jenny gingerly took. "I'm Stephen Houser, Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency."

He sat down across from her. "Now, I gave you my name, so I'd appreciate it if you returned the favour."

For the umpteenth time, Jenny replied, "Jenny Shepard. Director of NCIS."

Houser shrugged. "Thought you might say that. I take it that you're not going to give your real name?"

"That is my real name, as far as I know."

"You took a pretty good whack to the head. There are documented cases of people forgetting their identity and taking on what used to be a mere cover. In fact, they made a movie about it."

"So I've heard."

"Well, I suppose that it doesn't really matter anyway." He shrugged. "You're working with a few other people. I want to know what it is you're really up to."

"We're not-"

"Don't deny it," the Director snapped. "We saw you meet. Documented it, in fact. That was a real clever trick, by the way. Make it look like a random hit and run. Being dead is useful, ain't it?"

"I don't know." Jenny answered simply.

"Bullshit. You're part of some group. And every group, no matter what it is, has goals."

"We might have some," Jenny admitted carefully. "But whatever they were, I don't remember them."

"Hit you pretty hard, didn't they?" The man chuckled again. "Well, shit happens."

"Let me out of here."

"I don't think so."

Jenny leaned toward the man. "You want information. I want out of here. Let's make a deal."

Stephen leaned toward her. "What can you tell me."

"John and Jane. They're working with someone. I can tell you who. And I can tell you where to find them."

"Who?"

"No. You let me out first."

The Director leaned back, considering his options. Then, to Jenny's surprise, he replied, "Okay."

Libya

The attack had been sudden. The bunker had filled with choking gas that literally brought the defenders to their knees. Incapacitated, the guards weren't able to mount any sort of defence at all, and were quickly massacred.

Only minutes from the beginning of the attack, two men carrying assault rifles and wearing gasmasks broke through the door to the dictator's office, his last safe haven.

"What are you doing?" he asked, first in Arabic, then in English. "I can-"

One of the men raised his sidearm, a silver revolver, and pressed it to the dictator's head. "Goodbye, Muammar."

He pulled the trigger, and the dictator was no more.

As they left, the other man asked, "How long do you think it'll take before they discover the body?"

"The loyalists are gonna cover it up," he replied, shrugging. "Could be months. But it doesn't matter. We've taken one down, four more to go."

Within the next few days, expect new releases of SGD, Reboot: Mass Effect, and very possibly some new stories for 2012!