Gibbs' rules had been more than a 'code of conduct' for Tony: they had often served as a lifeline. Without rule 9, never go anywhere without a knife, he would not have been able to escape and meet up with Gibbs and Kate when he'd been kidnapped.
Rule 7, always be specific when you lie, had been the very foundation of many of his undercover operations, and this one was no exception. He had bended the line many times, but had never broken it: rule 14.
Right now, with only 12 minutes until midnight, it was rule 36 that was running through his mind: If it feels like you're being played, you probably are.
DiNozzo had expected the CIA to intercept their operation when they had all been together in the warehouse: it would have been the easiest location to capture them all and was the lowest risk when it came to innocent people becoming involved.
When that had not happened, Tony had hoped that they would have stopped the vans on the way to their targets: perhaps they'd reasoned that it would be easier to target three smaller teams instead of one large group of armed terrorists? Again, he had been let down.
As they parked the black van just around the corner from Heist, Tony started to feel like he was being played. Or perhaps this is what it meant to be a Ghost Op? He knew that he would have to work as a nameless, faceless agent, that he wasn't truly meant to exist, but would Chapman go as far as to let Tony become a terrorist to infiltrate the group?
Would the CIA actually sacrifice innocent civilians if it meant they had a chance to save thousands more? At this stage, Tony could not be surprised by anything anymore, though the sheer thought chilled him to the core. If that truly were the plan, he would rather die. At least then he would be with his family again.
On their drive to the club, DiNozzo had been forced to listen to the psychotic ramblings of the man sat across from him. The tall man ran a hand over his shaved head and sighed almost longingly.
''I'm dying for some fun!'' He'd uttered multiple times, tapping his foot impatiently as he tried to get them all to agree on the destruction the government was causing their country.
His partner, a woman with her dark hair tied back even tighter than Ziva had ever done, had muttered that that was why they were all there, though DiNozzo doubted that the man had heard her call him a moron.
''Have we met before?'' Tony blurted out. It was a genuine curiosity that had irked him since the man had started blabbering. He knew they'd crossed paths before, and he knew drawing attention to himself would be a risk, but the question had gnawed at him and he needed a way to keep this guy from slagging off government agencies any more without sucker punching him.
''Don't think so?'' The man eyed DiNozzo's rigid posture and grave expression and snorted. ''I don't hang out with no stuck up bitches.''
''You nervous?'' Thor suddenly asked the rambling man. The man had chuckled awkwardly and gone on the defence, once again emphasising his 'desire to have fun'. ''Then shut up or I'll show you how fun it is to have my foot up your ass.'' Tony had almost high-fived Thor.
From inside the van, they could now hear the faint thumping of repetitive music coming from the club. Outside, there was still a long queue of young people snaking around the block.
With their weapons already drawn, the two pairs opened the door and slipped out of the van. Tony's heart was racing, his gut screaming at him to take action before anyone could get hurt.
They nonchalantly walked past the queue, and Tony's heart sank as he heard some people whooping them and shouting ''aw man, awesome!'': they all thought they were dressed for the club's bank heist theme.
That's when he saw her. He almost did not recognize her without her pigtails, without her usual bounciness, and her 'casual gothic' (He didn't think that was a thing until she had proven him otherwise) outfit made him wonder if she had been working before coming here, but it was her.
Tony had been to all sorts of clubs with Abby; some of them he liked, but most he hated. Still, he'd always made sure to accompany her, not just to keep her safe, but also simply because it meant spending a little bit more time with her.
Abby had a way of knowing when Tony needed an opportunity to relax, to let down his guards and recharge. It did not matter if they were at his place watching movies, or out dancing until the sun came up: his time with Abby was precious, and she never failed to lift his spirits.
Rule 39 told him there was no such thing as a coincidence, but what else would you call this: Fate's twisted sense of humour? He had not seen Abby for nine weeks, and here she was: queuing up for the club that was about to be attacked.
And she wasn't alone. Though it filled him with pride to see that none other than Jimmy Palmer had decided to accompany her (no matter how out of place he looked), he now had two close friends who could get caught in the line of fire.
He'd mentally prepared himself for the end: he wasn't going to let these terrorists have their way, and he knew he could take these guys on, but he also was realistic enough to know he would not survive a point blank gunfight against three heavily armed assailants (ignoring the two guys who were waiting for them in the van just around the corner). He was not prepared to sacrifice any more of his family.
Racing through his options, he quickly remembered rule 28: if you need help, ask. He just hoped he could. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes met Jimmy's. The man seemed to have been halfway through a story, and for a brief moment Tony worried that he would not recognize him, but the pure look of shock told him that Jimmy had seen him.
Abby quickly followed his line of sight (Tony could swear he heard her ask what he was looking at) and she visibly gasped as Tony walked right past them. Tears seemed to well up in her eyes, and for a moment it looked like she would leap into his arms, but Palmer held her back, frowning as he noticed the three people with Tony.
They needn't say a word. Tony gave the faintest of nods before he turned his gaze forward. He could not tell them to run, but he trusted them with the world.
A tall, bulky security guard glanced towards them and stepped forward, blocking the entrance for them. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.
''Sorry guys, no fake weapons allowed.'' The guard announced, nodding towards the queue. ''And you need to wait your turn like everyone else.''
It was the bald man who stepped forward, smirking like a Cheshire cat.
''That's alright, mister,'' He purred, lifting his gun to point at the bouncer. ''These guns ain't fake.''
It was five minutes until midnight when a loud bang echoed through the air. It sounded different from any early fireworks people were setting off, though just like fireworks people watched as crimson exploded with the noise.
Chaos followed. The same young people who had been buzzing moments prior were screaming and running away in terror as the bald man limply dropped to the ground. The guard stood frozen in his spot, blood splashed all over him.
''What the Hell?!'' The dark haired woman shrieked. Both she and Thor had their guns aimed at Tony, who glared back at them fiercely.
''I remembered where I'd met him before.'' Tony began coldly, his eyes darting between them when suddenly he aimed his weapon at the bouncer. All he needed to do right now was buy enough time for people to evacuate, and if there was one thing he was good at, it was talking. ''It wasn't until I saw you both together that I figured it out.''
''Woah man!'' the guard held up his hands, taking a step backwards. Tony took the opportunity and quickly closed the distance between them, silently mouthing 'play along' to the man in question. The man frowned, but he swallowed thickly and seemed to get the message.
''Loki!'' Tony turned to look back at the two guns still aimed at him. ''You've got five seconds to explain why we shouldn't have blown your brains out the second you shot one of our own!''
Tony needed just a second.
''He's a fed.''