Woah, guys, it has been over a year. I'm really sorry about that. But my goal is to finish this story by the end of the semester, and since we still have a long way to go in this story, that means I'll be updating fairly often. Here's a chapter to get the ball rolling. PLEASE review to let me know what you think.
The D'Amico residence, having housed the large family for centuries, appeared just as powerful, ancient, and dark as its occupants- the fact that it jutted out over the water, the last building on its street, made it seem all the more grand and formidable. It far surpassed the Clarks' home in both age and size. It was a palace, a fortress, almost a castle, if such a thing could ever exist in Venice.
From the outside it seemed to be in perfect condition, which only further shrouded it in mystery. Most of the older, larger structures in the city had been converted into museums or historical landmarks, open for public viewing. Those that hadn't were still active homes for the living members of families once considered Venetian nobility. To the human population, the place was abandoned as it had been for years. Usually deserted homes as grand as this one would be seized by the city, or the historical foundation, and renovated into a tourist site of some sort. But the city did nothing about the seemingly empty property, and the understanding amongst the general public was that someone very wealthy and very powerful owned the palace- someone so powerful that not even the local government could step in and demand they renovate the place (for the sake of tourism, of course). What most people did not know was that the current owner, a Thaddeus D'Amico, was only the third man to ever own the house since it had been built. The members of the D'Amico family had a habit of living for centuries.
The higher powers-that-be within the local government were aware of this, and they knew that it was wiser not to interfere with the goings-on of the palace.
So, the house stood, seemingly untouched and empty. But on the inside it was all at once bursting with life and falling apart. At least fifty "members" of the D'Amico clan lived within the walls at any given time, yet not one of them seemed to care about the disarray that had fallen upon the interior of the house. Some portions of the structure were closed off from the rest of the building- ivy grew up the walls and over furniture, mirrors were fogged up and unused. In some places, there were massive holes in the floor, and the water underneath lapped against the sides of these holes; in stormier weather, waves could spill a generous amount of briny water into the abandoned halls. Because Venice is constantly sinking and being rebuilt, the rest of the city appears to be immune to the passage of time or the erosion of water. But in the closed off portions of the D'Amico house, where moonlight and sunlight and water took its toll, one could truly see how ancient Venice, and the house, were.
Still, there were at least three-quarters of the original structure still in use, and that space alone was enough to warrant the house its own zip code. The active areas of the palace were as splendid as they had been originally- golden tapestries, antique furniture worth thousands, and all of the modern conveniences that any other house might have. It was five stories high, not counting the widow's walk on the top or the first floor, which had been a dungeon since the conception of the place.
These were all things that Apollo knew about the house, and which he conveyed to the three younger adults sitting with him in their hotel cafe. Deep down, Apollo had always loved the D'Amico mansion- it was an architectural feat, a marvel. If it weren't for the horror-filled memories he had of the place, he could discuss it for hours.
But, he wrapped up his description with, "If your friends are in that building, there's no question that they'd be kept in the dungeon…to be honest, Tim, I know that you think someone might be living there now, but I seriously doubt it. The D'Amico family is gone and no one else would be so bold as to take up residence there. It would literally be moving into the site of a mass killing."
Tony and Victoria both shifted their gaze to the younger flightling. Tim sat quietly for a moment, trying to find a good way to express his thoughts. "I think you're right. No one new would move in. But what if the D'Amico family wasn't completely wiped out? What if a few got away and then spent their time laying low?"
Apollo nodded, but it was clear that he was still skeptical. "I think that's a conversation for another time. But I agree that if your friends are being kept somewhere, the dungeons of that building are as good a place as any."
Tony stood first and pushed his chair in noisily. "So I say we look for them right now."
Tim rose and turned to his adopted family. "You guys stay here. We'll be back in a little while-"
"No way, Tim. We're coming too. Don't give me that look," Victoria interrupted. "They're your family. We'd help you find them no matter what."
DiNozzo looked at the young woman in surprise. He'd assumed that the Clarks had come to Venice because they felt obligated to. Despite the more annoying traits he'd found in Victoria, he had to admit, her loyalty was on par with any of the members of Team Gibbs.
"She's right, Timothy. We're with you," Apollo said. "Come hell or high water."
Apollo led the way through back alleys to the D'Amico palace. The four remained on foot, in case there were unfriendly creatures (human or flightling) nearby.
The top of the fortress peeked out over the rooftops, so they could see it long before they reached it. Apollo stopped in the shadows of the alley across from the house and regarded it warily. It certainly looked abandoned, but that meant little.
"What's the plan?" Victoria murmured.
Tim and Tony shared a nervous glance. If there were guards outside patrolling that small stretch of concrete that ran the length of the structure, then they wouldn't have enough time to even peek through the window bars before they were caught. But that was the least of their problems. The whole side of the mansion was bathed in moonlight, and anyone glancing out of any of the windows on that side would see them approach. And then if Ziva and Gibbs were inside of the dungeon, there would surely be guards inside too, and they'd hear the rescuers coming. Plus, Tim was fairly positive that those bars on the windows were steel- how else would flightlings be contained in such a prison? So they couldn't just rip the bars out and pull the two agents to safety. Assuming they were even in the house. This was a lot of "ifs" and variables, and McGee and DiNozzo knew that even stepping in the direction of that building was risky.
"Apollo, how do you get into the first floor?" Tim asked.
"Well there's a staircase on the far end that leads upstairs, but there's also a door on this end that leads outside. That way prisoners could be transported without disturbing the rest of the household. See?" He pointed to it; the door was barely visible from this angle, but suddenly it swung open, startling everyone in the shadows.
"Well, that answers some questions," Tony muttered. "Someone definitely lives there."
"It may not be the D'Amicos," Apollo warned.
As he spoke, a pair of flightlings came into view, landing in front of the door while another couple emerged from the open passage. Dark wings were folded away as the newcomers handed off two new human prisoners to the guards. All six figures disappeared into the dungeon and the door was shut with a bang.
"I think it's safe to say your friends are there," Victoria said. "But why keep prisoners? Why not kill them on the spot?"
"Why indeed," Apollo said. "But the more pressing issue is, how do we get those people out? I'm sorry to sound too harsh, but even if your friends aren't there, it seems we have a responsibility to investigate and intervene on any wrongdoings, seeing as the police couldn't do very much about it."
"Storming the place would be..." Victoria trailed off.
"Stupid?" Tony supplied.
"Yes."
"What do you have in mind, Tim? Agent DiNozzo?" Apollo turned to the two. "The both of you are more experienced in extracting hostages, I'd wager."
McGee and Tony shared another look. They had freed some prisoners in their time, but it wasn't an everyday thing. And in most cases, or rather, all cases, they were dealing with humans. Dangerous humans, but humans nonetheless.
"We could create some sort of diversion…" Tim suggested. "But that would probably only distract everyone else in the house. The guards downstairs wouldn't move unless they were in danger."
Suddenly, it dawned upon Tony. "What if we did this like Somalia?"
McGee became incredulous. "What, get ourselves captured then have a sniper shoot a way out for us?"
"Maybe not the sniper part, but the getting captured part-"
"We're not handing you over to the guards so that you can get inside."
"Not, 'me.' Us."
"Okay, great, but how do you two get inside? They'll know something's up when you two offer yourselves as prisoners," Victoria said.
"Actually," Apollo interjected, the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips. "We can be the ones to turn them in."
"Won't they know that we're not part of whatever group this is?" the young woman argued. "Our wings are white."
"Well, if the guards are sufficiently distracted, we might be able to work our way around that."
Tim raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"If, say, a small fire or a loud crash were to distract the rest of the house… the guard might be too busy to notice small details like that."
"That's a lot riding on a maybe, Apollo," Victoria said gently. "I don't mean to argue but if this is gonna work…"
"Just trust me, Victoria," Apollo said, equally as gentle. "This is dangerous, but I do think it will work."
Tim and Victoria nodded, knowing full well that when their surrogate father had an idea he wanted to entertain, the best thing to do was to play along. Since no one else seemed to have any ideas, they had limited options anyway.
"Tony can you get to your gun easily?" Tim asked.
"You have to ask?"
McGee grinned a little, but pulled the gun he'd borrowed from Tony out of its holster, and hid it in his belt, covering it with his shirt.
"Victoria, take these," Apollo said, handing her a small matchbook. "If you take off from here, you can fly around this building and enter the house from the other side. No one's lived in those rooms for years, and I imagine that whoever these people are, they haven't taken the time to remodel the place. There may be some guards there, but at this time of night, I doubt there will be many."
Tim smiled, thanking the heavens that Apollo knew the palace so well.
"What should I do?" she asked.
"Take off in about five minutes. As soon as you land, I want you to make as big a diversion as you can. But please don't get captured, dear."
Victoria nodded, fully aware of the danger this was about to bring.
"Tim, get your wings out," Tony said. "That way his face will be covered when he brings us in." DiNozzo still felt weird using Apollo's name, and to a lesser extent Victoria's, and hoped desperately that it didn't show.
Tim nodded and gently unfolded his wings; no matter how many times he did that, Tony didn't think he'd ever get used to the sight of those appendages.
"I hope this works," McGee muttered.
When Victoria prepared to take off, she shared a worried look with Apollo and Tim, and even a nod of "good luck" with Tony, who, even in the dark, could see the mix of worry and determination in her unnatural eyes.
She disappeared with a nearly silent flap of her wings, and Apollo turned back to Tony and Tim.
"I'd ruffle your clothes and hair," he suggested. "Make it look like you lost a fight."
The two did just that, then Apollo, with a quiet, "good luck," grabbed them both roughly by the arms and pulled them to the door of the fortress.
The eldest Clark banged on the door, and in a gruff voice, said, "Hey! Got more prisoners here."
A guard appeared, but between the darkness and the size of Tim's wings, Apollo's face was adequately hidden.
The flightling looked Tony and Tim up and down as they tried their best to look frightened and beaten.
"This one's not human," the guard said.
"Noticed, did you? Caught him poking around, trying to mess with the windows on the third floor," Apollo said. "Now are you gonna take them or not?"
"Yeah, yeah-" a loud crash echoed across the night, as well as the shouts of several voices. "What's that?" the guard asked.
"Don't know. You take these two, I'll go check it out," Apollo growled, shoving his two young friends forward, then running off in the direction of the sound before the guard could ask any more questions. The burly man grumbled and yanked the two new captives into the dungeon, shoving them roughly when they didn't walk fast enough. McGee's wings brushed against the guard's face and he scowled.
"Put your wings away," he snapped, and Tim complied without a word.
They entered the main holding room, and quiet weeping could be heard from the newer prisoners, who didn't quite understand what was happening. Those who had been in their cells for a day or more looked up to see what was going on. Only one other guard kept watch, on the far end of the room. McGee couldn't help but feel a rush of relief. He still hated violence, that part of him hadn't changed, but between their weapons and fighting skills, incapacitating these two men would be a piece of cake.
Tony and Tim gazed into each cell intently, hoping to see Gibbs and Ziva. They'd almost lost hope of finding them when they reached the end of the cell block. As the guard unlocked the last empty holding pen, Tony turned to the cell across from theirs to find none other than the missing NCIS agents, who lit up when they saw their closest friends, alive and well.
"Tony! McGee!" Zia said in surprise, and the warden turned, momentarily distracted.
Tim took this opportunity to open his wings with a powerful snap, knocking the guard back a step. He too spread his wings and lunged for McGee, who drew his gun and fired.
The second flightling charged from his spot against the wall, and his hand went to his belt, to retrieve the gun he kept there. Tony felled him before he could shoot, and just like that, there were two dead flightlings on the ground.
McGee steadied his heart rate and breathing, and DiNozzo went for the keys, still stuck in the lock of their intended cell. All of the prisoners became loud and excited at this development, but were hushed as Tim and Tony prepared for more guards.
None came, on either side, and the distant sounds of crashing, gunfire and shouting could be heard.
"Guess Victoria's distraction worked," McGee said, and Tony grinned, jingling the keys.
"Let's get the hell out of here."