A/N:- Usual shoutout to Malia Amane for beta reading. All mistakes beyond that are my own.
Disclaimer:- Usual statement that I do not own these characters.
The Nakatomi Plaza building jutted high into the Century City skyline, a glistening metallic and glass testament to mankind's vision and drive. Although most commonly known as the permanent home of the Nakatomi Corporation, others floors were given over to law firms and financial analysts. At the moment, as the time neared midnight, the building sat dark and looming. Almost directly above and behind it hung the crescent shape of the moon, casting deeper shadows across the front face of the thirty four story structure. The only lights visible were the odd spackle of office lights on random floors, and the lush lobby, which was bathed a rich and inviting yellow glow.
At a low squat, the three men scurried through the darkness, before pulling themselves in tight to the waist-high wall not far from the lobby. It had been barely a hour since Eric had found them in the firing range with the news; he'd got a kaleidoscope hit on the van, pulling into the lower level car park. They'd needed to plan quickly, pulling up all available information on the building onto the big screens in Ops, running through every detail of every blueprint they could with a fine tooth comb. Hetty had wanted to send a full TAC team in, but Sam –who had worked beside the Thundering Third before and knew their techniques – argued that a smaller unit had a better chance of getting in and out. Of course, Hetty always got what Hetty wanted, so the TAC team stood in reserve, half a block away, just in case anything should go wrong.
"Stop fidgeting Deeks," said Callen, voice barely above a whisper.
"I can't help it," their LAPD Liaison complained. "I've got an itch right between my shoulder blades."
"I can assure you, Detective," said Hetty's voice, through comms, "that I did not put itching powder on your shirt." She stood in Ops, no doubt with her hands clasped behind her back, as she and Eric observed the action on the large monitors.
"Okay, first of all," hissed Deeks. "First of all, I never said anything to you about itching powder. And second of all, it's not like that. It's more like, more like that feeling you get when you've got a gun pointed at your back."
Kensi's voice echoed through the static of their ear pieces. "Maybe you shouldn't make comments about kissing other women when your girlfriend is a trained sniper?"
"Is that what that is?" exclaimed Deeks. He shifted around, peering over at the building behind them, where Kensi lay in overwatch. "Are you pointing your gun at me right now?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that," she replied.
"Well, just make sure you don't accidentally shoot me."
"Deeks," said Sam. "She's managed to not 'accidentally' shoot you for four years. I think you're good."
"You got eyes on, Kens?" asked Callen, determined to get his team's mind back on the task at hand. He didn't mind the banter, enjoyed joining in, but right now, they couldn't afford for anything to go wrong. Like sentries overhearing the discussion, and sounding the alarm.
"Two snipers on the roof," said Kensi, the professional edge suddenly on her tone. "Three tangos at the front entrance. And another one – scratch that, two – roaming on the second floor."
"You know what to do," said Callen.
There was a brief pause, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the gentle gush of wind that tugged at their clothes. "Tango one down," Kensi said after a moment. There was another delay. "Tango two neutralised. Roof is clear."
"Watch our six," Callen ordered. "If anyone else comes out, take 'em down."
"Roger," replied Kensi. "Shoot anyone who isn't an NCIS agent."
"Heeeeey," moaned Deeks.
"Happy hunting."
"Stay safe, gentlemen," added Hetty.
Callen tapped Sam on the shoulder roughly, indicating it was time to move. The ex-SEAL darted forward quickly, Deeks on his tail, before they flattened themselves against the building wall. Shuffling forward slowly, they made their way towards the large glass doorway, weapons up and at the ready. Sam made a small hand gesture, and Callen darted to meet them. When he was sure they were all in place, he gave the signal for his team to pull their goggles into place.
Callen pressed the bud in his ear, activating the comms again. "We're in place, Nell. Hit it."
Half a block away, and at the top of a pole, the data analyst opened the metal box before her.
"In three, two, one," she said, before pulling the lever.
With a clunk, the lights in the building went out, casting it into inky blackness. As cries of surprise sounded from inside, the trio were already moving, Deeks pulling the door open for Sam to egress first. The terrorists inside tried to react quickly, tried to open fire, but the agents were quicker. The muzzles of their M4A1 assault rifles flashed in the darkness, the sound loud as it echoed around the marble covered foyer, and seconds later all three tangos lay dead.
"Entrance clear," said Callen, as he swept his weapon in an arch around him, searching for more targets, the eerie green glow from his night vision goggles making the world around him seem flat and lifeless.
Lying on the roof of the building opposite, Kensi's trained eye scanned the windows through her scope. More bad guys – a mix of the remaining marines and the Afghani nationals – were swarming around the upper levels like a disturbed hornet's nest, their flashlights sending beams of light this way and that. One of them, who Kensi assumed was probably Quiggin, pointed towards the stairwell that led down the ground floor. A handful of goons peeled off from the bunch, heading that way.
"You're gonna have company in four seconds," she said, into the comms.
Her three colleagues didn't respond, but a quick glance down towards the main entrance revealed that they were already moving into position.
In an alternate life, Marty Deeks could have been working in a place like this. Had things in his life gone differently, he could have been a junior partner in a prestigious law firm by now, walking into the marble clad foyer every morning on his way to his office, passed the furniture that probably cost more than his yearly salary. His office would have probably had a window that looked out onto the Los Angeles skyline, letting in the full bright sunlight.
And there had been opportunity; he could have taken any number of internships, worked his way up the firm's ladder, and right now been protecting corporations from litigation. Well, not right now; right now, he'd probably be fast asleep, getting to bed at a decent time every day. Curled up next to… well, who knows what sort of woman he'd have ended up with? Certainly not one like Kensi, that was for sure.
But that hadn't been what he'd chosen to do. Instead, he'd become a public defender, reasoning that he'd be able to do the most good for the people who needed help. And though he'd positively impacted hundreds of lives in that career, it hadn't been enough for him. He'd needed more, so he quit, and enrolled in the LAPD. Before he knew it, though, Hetty had come calling, and he found himself in a new line of work, saving more people than he'd ever though he could. It was great, but…
But…
So, instead of walking past the thick reception station every morning, he now found his back pressed flush against it, clutching a weapon, as a half dozen heavily armed mooks swarmed towards him.
He felt a tap on his shoulder, and glanced over. Callen made a quick hand gesture, and Deeks nodded to show his understanding; cover me. A second later, Deeks popped his head above the cover the station, bursting off a salvo of heated lead towards the bad guys. They scattered, shouting instructions at each other, dodging the streaks of bullets, diving for cover of their own. From the corner of his green hued vision, Deeks saw Sam and Callen leap over the reception station, ducking back down inside of it.
Sam didn't even wait for the first bullet to fire from Deeks' weapon before he was vaulting the station, sliding over the marble surface, to land on the purple carpet, his partner only a beat behind him. Together, they shuffled forward in a squat to the opposite side. With his thick muscled arm, Sam swept aside the black computer monitor, clearing himself some space.
"Deeks, honey," said Kensi, the scope pressed firmly to her eye. "You've got company coming from the left, trying to circle around you."
"How many?" he drawled back in her ear.
"Three," she said. She sucked in a breath, held it, then squeezed the trigger. A split second later, her sniper rifle bucked. "Make that two."
"Have I told you I love you today?" Deeks said, before moving out of her field of vision. Kensi let the smile rest on her lips for only a second, before she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The defenders rallied quickly, spraying wide arcs with their weapons – a mixture of AK47s and M16A4s – which forced Sam and Callen to remain hunkered down behind the thick wall of the reception station. Bullets pinged off the thick marble inches from their heads, making Callen wince with each impact. Sam, more experienced in fire fights like this, barely reacted. Instead, he seemed to be silently counting down, his face raised to the ceiling as he concentrated. As soon as he reached 'One', the gunfire from the opposite side of the lobby sputtered out. Even as Callen realised the terrorists were reloading, Sam was already up and firing back. By the time Callen had risen and joined in his partner's assault, three bad guys were already down. Callen took one of his own, sending the man pirouetting around, his death grip tugging the trigger of his assault rifle and ripping holes in the walls around him. The others ducked back behind cover, shouting confused instructions amongst each other.
Like silent death, Sam and Callen slunk back into cover, slipping out their spent magazines and slapping a fresh one into place.
The two men flanking from the left recovered quickly from losing one of their number, leapfrogging through cover as they closed on the NCIS Agents. The others in their group had been Afghani nationals; dedicated to their cause, yes, but untrained. Little more than cannon fodder, designed to attract the attackers fire, and martyr themselves to buy the plan more time. These two, however, had all the training the Great Satan had to offer.
Fortunately, thanks to Kensi on overwatch, Deeks knew they were coming. As the marines slipped towards where Sam and Callen were changing their magazines, the LAPD detective emerged from the deeper shadows of a large potted plant, and shot them in the back.
It was the least they deserved.
Deeks skittered forward, low enough to not present a target. He glanced around him briefly, before hunkering down by the two fallen traitors. He stripped out the magazines from their weapons, tossing them into the far corner where they landed with a clatter. A sudden burst of gunfire came from the opposite side of the lobby, shredding the wall and tiled floor around where the magazines had landed.
Deeks let out a small smile, realising that the men they faced out against were easily distracted. Getting a firm grip under one of the shoulders, Deeks began to drag the body towards his teammates.
Callen didn't like being pinned down. Their attackers had started a steady stream of suppressing fire towards where he and his partner were hidden, taking it in turns to prevent the agents from making a counter attack.
His frustration was growing with each passing second. If they didn't get passed these guys, they couldn't make it to the bomb and stop that from exploding. Suddenly, a soft scraping noise attracted his attention. He swivelled his weapon towards the source, only to see Deeks hauling one of the fallen marines across the tiles.
Callen cocked his head, knowing that the Detective couldn't read fully his expression when covered by the goggles. Deeks shrugged noncommittally, before starting to fiddle around with the flashlight he had dug out of his kit, attaching it to the body's shirt. Callen cast a glance over at Sam, who was also regarding Deeks with the same baffled expression.
With some effort, Deeks sat the body upright. Then he turned to the partners, and started counting down on the fingers of one hand. Three, two, one… With a great heave, Deeks shoved the body out of cover, the flashlight sending its beam flailing around the lobby. Instantly, the gunfire switched direction as the bad guys riddled the decoy with bullets.
They didn't have time to realise their mistake, as the three agents rose and picked them off with ease.
The silence was sudden, such a countenance to the thunderous noise of combat only seconds before. Sam arched his M4 carbine this way and that, peering into every green tinted corner.
"Clear," he said a moment later, hearing Deeks and Callen echo him seconds later. Taking advantage of the pause, he slapped in a fresh magazine, giving his gear a quick once over to make sure everything was still where it was supposed to be.
"Kens," said Callen, his jaw set. "What's going on?"
"You're good for now," came the reply, transmitted to all the agents through their ear buds. "Looks like they're fortifying their positions one floor up, using cubicles as cover."
Sam nodded. "Waiting for us to come to them," he said, before throwing Callen a wry look. "It's what they're good at."
"It doesn't make sense," said the team leader, still glancing around him. Sam recognised the look; Callen always sported it whenever there was something going on and he didn't have all the facts. "Why are they fortifying upstairs?"
"Maybe that's where the bomb is, so they're looking to stop us getting to it?" asked Deeks.
"No," Callen replied. "There's no point setting it off now, we're in a commercial district. Place is practically deserted."
"So they set it off later, when people are coming to work," said Sam.
Callen shook his head. "All it'd take is one person coming in early, seeing the bomb up there, and the whole area is evacuated before they can do the most damage. Unless…" he trailed off, his eyes widening. "Kensi, you got eyes on Quiggin?"
There was a brief pause. "Negative," she replied. "But he could be out of my field of view."
Callen turned to the others. "Sam, I need you and Deeks to deal with upstairs. You think you two can handle that?"
Sam glanced at Deeks, appraising him. The two men had issues, that much was true. Everything about the Detective was opposite of what Sam believed. But at the end of the day, Kensi trusted Deeks, so right now, that was enough for Sam. "Sure," he replied. "Where are you going?"
But Callen was already moving away. "To stop the bomb," he called, as he raced towards the basement stairwell.
Kensi watched her team split up, Callen heading towards the side of the lobby while Sam and Deeks crept towards the main stairwell.
Behind her, she heard the unmistakable crunch of boot on gravel.