Tony stared at him blankly.

''You're joking, right?'' Tony laughed nervously, his smile fading when Chapman didn't waver.

''Daniel Rovik has seen my face! My cover would be blown in an instant!''

''Which is why we'll have you take his place.'' Chapman replied matter-of-factly.

''I'm sorry?''

''You wanted revenge, did you not?'' Benjamin turned around and picked up a file Tony hadn't previously noticed. ''Daniel Rovik is one of three captains, but that's as far as we've gotten. We have no idea as to the identity of their leader.''

Chapman placed two more images on the table, and Tony had to swallow back the bile at the sight: Two men were shown on the pictures, bloody and beaten. He could see one of them was missing an eye, whereas the other was missing several fingers.

''They were captains for the same group.'' Chapman announced, pointing at the one with the missing eye. ''Daniel Rovik killed his captain when we intercepted one of their attacks, blaming him for the 'oversight' in their plans.''

Catching on, DiNozzo's head snapped up.

''That's your lead.'' He began. ''You've figured out where Rovik's going to strike next and you want me to kill him and take over as captain?''

''Exactly.'' Chapman nodded, clicking another button on the remote and directing their attention back to the screen. ''Rovik has been recruiting some extra men from outside the group: that will be your way in. Once we stop the attack, you can move in to take Rovik's place.''

''And why would they trust someone who has not been a member of their terrorist cell to become their new captain?'' DiNozzo retorted sceptically.

''Agent DiNozzo, you're infamous for your undercover operations.'' Chapman smirked arrogantly: it took all Tony's willpower not to smack that grin off his face. ''You've charmed your way into organisations before, this is no different.''

Tony wasn't convinced. What worried him more than the clear lack of a strategy on their part was the casualness with which Agent Chapman spoke of him. It was as if, should he fail, he would just be disposed of. He had realised the danger of joining a 'Ghost Op' before, but until now it had not dawned on him just how little they valued their agents. He was no more than a pawn in their desperate attempts at stopping a terrorist group.

''When?'' Pushing his concerns aside, Tony decided to focus on his own goal: getting answers to what had happened at the harbour. As much as he hated to admit it, following their orders was currently the only way he would achieve that.

''In five weeks.'' Chapman replied simply. ''Meaning that we will need to increase your training if we want you to be ready.''

Tony looked at the image of Daniel Rovik still on the screen and swallowed thickly. In five weeks, he could have a shot at the man who'd taken everything from him.

''Well then lets get started.''

The next five weeks had been more intense than DiNozzo could have ever imagined. They had continued to inject him weekly with the 'Super Soldier Serum', as Tony continued to call it when they refused to actually tell him what it contained.

He had beaten his personal records on the treadmill time and time again, and he was pleased to discover Agent Chapman now had to change into clothes that would provide him a bit more movement when sparring with him.

With just four weeks to go, they had started his weapon training, introducing him to weaponry that would have made Ziva drool. He had increased his skills with close range weapons such as knives and daggers, but a new talent he had discovered was his sniping.

Although his skills did not even come close to Gibbs', he couldn't help but wonder if his boss would have been proud of the shots he'd successfully taken recently.

Before he realised it, his preparation time was up. Tony had been ordered to rest up that day, and he had done so by reading over the case time and time again. He'd memorised the names of every terrorist they had identified thus far and had carefully studied the information they had on the upcoming attack.

After taking a shower, DiNozzo got dressed in dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Looking in the mirror, he ran a hand over the faint stubble on his face. His hair was longer than he'd kept it for years, and he had combed it back to keep it out of his face. He barely recognised the man staring back at him: even he could tell that the sparkle he'd always had in his eyes had faded completely.

It had been nine weeks since he'd seen anything other than the CIA Batcave, nine weeks since he'd been dragged into this living Hell. Taking a deep breath, he slipped on black socks and black leather ankle boots. It was time.

Benjamin met DiNozzo in the conference room he'd been briefed in five weeks prior. He eyed Tony approvingly before handing him a mobile phone, keys, a knife, and a handgun.

''How are you feeling?'' Chapman asked as Tony slipped the handgun in his holster and hid the knife in his right boot.

''About the way anyone would feel when they're about to infiltrate a terrorist group with no backup.'' Tony retorted, eyeing the keys and phone.

''You're not entirely without backup.'' Chapman tried to reassure him, but it did little to ease DiNozzo's nerves. ''We expect you to report back whenever you can, as we explained. If at any stage you feel your cover has been blown, you can call us with that phone, it's a safe line.''

''Lets get this party on the road.'' DiNozzo shrugged on his leather jacket. He followed Chapman out of the room, and for the first time in nine weeks, felt the cold winter air against his face as they walked through another door.

Tony stood still for a moment, eyeing his surroundings disbelievingly. The streets around them were brightly lit with Christmas lights; people were walking by in groups, many of them dressed in glittery dresses and festive blazers. It was New Years Eve, and streets were booming with people looking for a party to attend.

What shocked Tony was how familiar these streets were. He had walked down these streets, he had visited these shops, had partied at these clubs. It was no more than twenty minutes away from the Navy Yard.

''Son of a bitch…'' He laughed half-heartedly. He looked back at the building they had just left and noted how extremely ordinary the place looked. It simply looked like you would find shoddy student apartments inside, not a labyrinth of training and medical rooms. ''You've been hiding in plain sight all this time.''

''This is as far as I'll take you,'' Chapman drew his attention back to him. He had stopped by a matte black Ducati Monster and handed Tony the helmet. ''We will be there to intercept the attack, but I entrust Rovik to you.''

DiNozzo shook the hand that Chapman extended before putting on the helmet and gloves that he found within it. He got on the bike and turned on the engine. It had been years since he'd last ridden a motorcycle, but he still felt comfortable on it.

Over the past five weeks, he had been in contact with Rovik's right hand man: a guy called Charles Douglas, though Tony was only meant to know him as 'The Fox'. They had chatted on a platform numerous times during which Tony had managed to convince the man of two things:

Firstly, Tony had explained to Douglas that he was a former marine who had been dishonourably discharged (Chapman had made sure that the correct files were available for them to find to verify this), and secondly, he had convinced him that he held a grudge against the government (again, the CIA helped him build his case by creating false old statements on various platforms, on which DiNozzo's cover had vented his rage).

Tony Volkov, as DiNozzo had decided to call himself, had managed to stay afloat by working odd jobs, though if anyone looked any further they would realise that these 'odd jobs' often were less than legal.

Douglas had agreed to let Tony in on their upcoming scheme, and DiNozzo was now due to meet them in an hour. They were meeting at Murphy's, an Irish pub in Alexandria. It would take DiNozzo half an hour to get there, which left him with another 30 minutes to scout the area.

The surrounding buildings were low, providing very few vantage points for potential snipers. The location was public, and DiNozzo was well aware of the reasons they had decided to meet there. It served as insurance for DiNozzo that they wouldn't be able to harm or kill him without witnesses, and for Douglas to have plenty of potential hostages around.

DiNozzo parked his bike two blocks away from the pub and sat down in the far right corner of the pub. It was close to the kitchen door, providing him with another escape route, and was well away from the windows.

''What can I get you?'' A young woman with chestnut hair and a million dollar smile asked, holding a pen and paper to take his order.

''You know, I haven't had a Guinness for ages.'' DiNozzo mirrored the smile, and he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks.

''One pint of Guinness, coming right up!'' She was about to twirl around when he stopped her.

''Could you make that two?'' Tony asked quickly. ''I'm waiting for a friend.''

''Sure thing.'' She beamed before hurrying off to fetch his drinks.

DiNozzo looked down at his phone to check the time when someone sat down in front of him. Looking up, Tony faced a middle-aged man with black hair that was starting to grey around the edges. He was wearing half-moon framed glasses and was dressed in a black turtleneck and black trousers.

''Mr. Fox, I presume?''