Ziva found herself strapped to a chair, which may not have been exactly as remembered, but enough for this hallucinogenic torture to commence.
"I will never tell you anything," she hissed in Israeli through tightly clenched teeth, as a faceless person in garb reminiscent of that worn by the terrorist whom had captured her in reality.
Without a word, the faceless individual commenced to torture her in a variety of ways. Some remembered, but most of which was new to Ziva...
"Gyiiiii!" she screamed, as her hands were placed in press clamps, with which the unknown terrorist tightened them in order to cause the pain for which Ziva was screaming.
Next came the hot irons pressed against exposed skin that sizzled in line with more screams of agony issuing forth from Ziva David.
"I will still never talk!" she shouted, again in Israeli, to her tormentor. "Never!"
This time, however, Ziva was expecting Gibbs, Tony, and McGee to rush in, guns drawn, in order to rescue her. They never came. And her torture continued.
"Gyiiiiii!"
In the forensics floor of the NCIS offices, Abigail "Abby" Sciuto was inhaling the DMT via the air conditioning ducts running throughout the building. At first woozy, Abby would soon find herself falling into a subconscious Hell of her own...
"What...?" she gasped as she looked into a full length mirror that magically, it seemed, appeared to one side of forensics. "No. No!"
What greeted her usually darkly adorned eyes was, for her, the worst sight she could've seen: Her hair was blonde, not jet-black, her tatoos were gone, and her manner of dress was akin to someone definitely not into Goth.
She was a living Barbie doll.
"Gibbs!" she shouted, in hopes that the strong leader of the NCIS group, which included her, would come bursting in and smash the mirror to tiny reflective pieces. But Gibbs was still caught up in his own Hell at the moment. Which left Abby trapped in her Barbie doll existence. Forced to stare at herself in the "magical" mirror, as well as look down to confirm what the reflection held for truth.
"Yuk!" she gutterally grunted, as her fingernails, devoid of Goth nail paint, were matching, in color, the bright green dress she wore without any of the spiked trappings usually strapped around neck, wrist, and even finger.
She felt herself getting violently ill. Her stomach twisting and turning, threatening to allow vomit to hurl forth, quite possibly onto the mirror, which continually reminded Abby of the horror that had befallen her.
A Barbie doll existence.
As Abby held back the vomit...
As Ziva held out through her torture...
As McGee held his own in the RPG game within the confines of his computer...
As Tony held his head high, even though not a single one of the scantily clad ladies surrounding him took notice of his panting presence...
As Gibbs held back his tears and broken heart, whilst Jenny Shepard stands just out of arms length, reminding him of her death, which stole her forever from his world...
As Palmer held his childhood trauma deep within, even as his college tormentors continued to harrass him...
And, last but most certainly not least, as Ducky continued to perform his medical examiner duties in wartorn Vietnam, the explosions outside the tent seemingly getting closer and closer...
The individual, once more wearing a gas mask and gloves, returned to remove the vaporizor device spewing DMT fumes throughout NCIS. He knew that, should he leave it behind, NCIS forensics could quite possibly trace it back to him.
And that was something he most definitely did not want to happen.
At last, everyone affected by the DMT were released from its hallucinigenic grasp. Their minds once again returning to the normal here-and-now.
Although, on some level, they would never fully recover from their personal Hells, they had recovered enough to realize some drug had been released into their re-circulated air.
"Everyone all right?" asked Gibbs, even as he stood and retrieved his holstered automatic pistol from one of the drawers of his desk.
"Yeah, boss," was Tony's groggy response, as he, too, stood and retrieved his own weapon from a desk drawer.
"I'm okay," responded Siva, as she did the same as Gibbs and Tony. "I think."
McGee was the last to stand, retrieve his gun, and answer...
"I'm all right now, boss."
Even as they all headed for the elevator...
Abby would once again see herself, in the reflective surfaces of some of her equipment and her computer screen, as the beauteous Goth that she was.
"Thank, God."
And both Ducky and Palmer also found themselves in the morgue floor of NCIS...
"That was interesting," understated, on purpose, Ducky as Vietnam was, once more, a thing of the past.
"I don't think 'interesting' is the word I would use, Dr. Mallard," commented Palmer, as he took stock of the true world over the hellish recollections that had so twisted his thoughts and emotions mere moments earlier.
Before the gas masked individual could make good his exit...
"Going somewhere?"
Gibbs, Tony, McGee, and Ziva were just inside the air conditioning section situated so far below them, guns drawn and aimed directly at the person responsible for all that had occured.
Needless to say, the terrorist person, still in gas mask and gloves, one gloved hand holding the DMT vaporizor, held up said hands in surrender.
"Damn."