"Whatcha got, Abs?"
Abby whirled around, her face set in a look that said she had no patience today, "Well, since this crime scene is so big, there are nine other forensic scientists in the building who are also working this. Ergo, I'll only have a part of what you need Gibbs."
"Well... What do ya got, Abs?" Now Gibbs was losing patience.
Abby smiled. Gibbs always knew how to cheer her up, "I ran the fingerprints of the dead guys on the floor I was assigned, the 4th. Get this, four of these guys were former Delta Force members, three retired Special Forces, and two were, and I needed McGee's help on this one, ex-CIA Special Operations Group guys."
"So the guy in interrogation right now not only fought, but killed without getting wounded himself, nine of possibly the best warriors on the planet?" Gibbs asked, "Woulda made one hell of a Marine,"
(A/N: I'll pause and let you absorb the irony of that comment.)
"Now, I ran the pipe bomb he used through Major Mass Spec, and it spewed out," she took a deep breath, "Pentaerythritol tetranitrate, cyclotrimethylene-trinitramine, binder styrene-butadiene,"
"Abby!" Gibbs said in annoyance.
"Semtex, Gibbs," Abby explained, "The black market's flushed with the stuff. Get's imported from Russia and former Soviet bloc countries because they over-produce it. Almost impossible to trace to any one buyer."
"Manufacturer?"
"A factory in Poland, but this shipment was stolen months ago," Abby said, "For shrapnel this guy used ball bearings."
"Most terrorists use nails, more soft tissue damage," Gibbs said, "This guy wanted a job done," Whoever did this did this for a, what seemed to him, a logical reason, and that logical reason only.
"Yeah, ball bearings have more stopping power than nails," Abby said, "The assault rifle was a Steyr bullpup, means all the mechanics are behind the trigger. Rounds were military grade, some of them full metal jacket. This guy wasn't planning on taking any prisoners."
"Anything else?" Gibbs asked.
"I managed to get some info out of Ron, the guy who's doing the forensics on the other building, and he said that the bullets from there were 9mm hollow points. Get this, these were the same type of bullets that were used to kill our 2nd admiral. The ones that didn't like to cooperate," she hissed glaring at a machine that housed said uncooperative bullets, "The rounds fired from the roof were 7.62mm Boat Tails covered in a mixture of plastics. The plastics stayed on the bulleT until it exited the barrel, then flaked off. No way to get striations. We also found 5.7mm slugs in the office. That we managed to get striations off of. Came from a Five-seveN."
"That all you got?"
"Gibbs, these guys were good, like really good, like, A-Team good," Gibbs's eyebrows shot up. Even he knew who the A-Team was.
Trev
Hot damn, this is one fine interrogation room. Dark, cold, slightly creepy reflection in the one way mirror, metal table, eerie light hanging above my head, uncomfortable chair. Awesomeness!
Damn, if I get to interrogate people in this room, maybe I should get a job here. Wait, miserable pay, not being able to beat the shit out of suspects, rules...nah.
Still, a pretty nice interrogation room.
I was interrupted from my thoughts as Gibbs opened the door, slamming it. Ah, the classic "Lock a guy in a cold, dark room for a few hours, then some in loudly and accuse him of murder." It's like Top Gun, a classic, if unimaginative. Not Top Gun, the technique.
He sat down and stared, his gaze hard and unyeilding. Come on, you're better than that, where's the legendary interrogator?
He continued to stare, searching for my soul. I'd squirm, if I had a soul. You're gonna have to get up earlier than that to crack this nut, Gibbs.
Well, this can't last for long.
Four hours later...
Jesus Mother-Flipping No-load pus -nutted needle-dicked Christ. How long must this go on?
I will win. I will. I just have to resort to a tactic I don't like to use.
Observation Room
"What the-" Tony said, "Is he singing-"
"Taylor Swift?"
Trev
"We were both young when I first saw you," Okay, I have nothing against Taylor Swift. In all honesty she's kinda good, not to mention hot, it's just that her lyrics are just too catchy, so that after the fiftieth time they go through your head you just wanna commit murder-suicide.
Gibbs was completely taken aback by this tactic, obviously at a loss for words. He attempted to regroup, "What were you after in Hellbourne?"
How did you know that Hellbourne was dirty? I wanted to ask but I just continued singing, "Baby just say yes."
Aww, come on, Gibbs, don't go, we just got started. Hey, if you don't like my Love Story, maybe you'll do better with my Hey Stephen?
It hurt when I bit my tongue to keep form laughing.
The irony part is that Trev's actual name is Jon Trevodur, and he served in the Marines from 02-05.
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