His fingers tapped relaxedly on the roof, keeping time with the guitar's strumming resounding out from the tiny speakers. His head bopped quickly and softly along with his fingers, his eyes coursing the road outside as he hummed the riff from the song blaring over the sound of the pouring rain.
"Bah bah bah bah bah bahda de dah de dah. Here comes Jonny in again... with the liquor and drugs..."
Tony leant over and forcefully flicked a button on the radio.
McGee's karaoke whittled on for a few seconds before he realised he had just lost his back up music. "Hey!" he said. "I was listening to that."
"Iggy Pop doesn't suit you, McGeek," Tony said, beginning to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the sounds of the Pearl Jam song now wafting through the car. "Trainspotting, though... great movie," he continued absentmindedly.
McGee scoffed under his breath. He leant over and flicked it back. The sounds of Eddie Veder's gravely drawls blurred back into Iggy's. "Well, I'm just a modern guy..." McGee began once more.
"Hey!" Tony shouted. "Senior Field Agent!" He pointed to himself.
"I don't remember reading in the guideline manual that seniority in the field allowed for musical preference during transportation, Tony."
"Well, then read it again, Probie," Tony said, before flicking it back and breaking into a whining imitation of the guitar solo.
McGee licked his lips anxiously, then reached out and flicked it again. Tony quickly dropped his own hand from the steering wheel and turned it back. McGee repeated. Tony again. McGee again. Tony again. McGee again.
"God, would one of you just pick something!" a voice came from the behind them.
"Hey, you in the back seat, shut up!" Tony said, looking into the rear view mirror. "You are suspected of domestic terrorism and transportation of illicit weaponry. You have no say in the choice of music."
The man seated in the back seat rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his cuffs.
"Tony, I don't think you should be communicating with the suspe . . . "
"Probie! One more word and the Spice Girls are hitting the airwaves."
"Tony, I have a little sister. My ears have built up a tolerance."
Tony glared at him as he braked the car abruptly to a stop at the red light ahead.
"Fine," McGee said, relaxing after the jolt. "I don't mind Pearl Jam anyway."
Tony narrowed his eyes before turning them back to the radio. He pressed another button and another song began to play.
McGee looked to his side and groaned. "Tony, come on. Seriously."
Tony had a large grin plastered across his face as his lips began to synch with the singer's. "Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you..."
McGee's eyes rolled back and his head thudded against the headrest. Tony was still grinning from ear to ear. "I said I gave up, Tony. I left it on Pearl Jam."
"Music in the car's no fun unless it's causing one of the occupants discomfort, McGee."
"You're causing me discomfort," the suspect said from the back seat.
"Hey!" Tony threw a threatening finger toward the rear view mirror. "What did I say?" He proceeded to turn his attention back to the road before honking the horn loudly. "Come on, mate, light's green!"
McGee flicked the switch on the radio once more in Tony's distraction. Tony turned to him and growled deeply before turning his focus back to the truck in front of them, "The light's not getting any greener, man!" The horn sounded again. "Come on, what's your problem?"
The windscreen wipers continued to scrape and squeeze across the window, tiny drops of water pelting down in their wake. Tony beeped the horn once more, leaving his hand in place for a little longer than necessary.
"Tony!" McGee yelled, pulling his partner's hand from the horn. "He's probably on his cell or something. Just wait a moment."
Tony opened his mouth to send him back a witty reply before he was abruptly cut off by the sound of crunching metal ahead of them. The two agents looked out into the rain and onto the van in front to see its two rain-slicked back doors rip open.
"What the..." McGee began.
Four men in dark jumpsuits jumped from inside. Each was holding a semi-automatic.
"Holy shi - - " Tony growled, before he was interrupted by a hail of gunfire. "McGee, get down!" He slammed his foot down on the accelerator. "Hold on!" He could hear the car begin to rip at the slick tarmac beneath the tyres, desperately clutching for friction before it lurched into motion and began screeching forwards. The car slammed into the back of the van, crushing one of the attackers against it. McGee felt his head slam into the corner between the side window and windscreen.
The three other men in black had scattered to the side and continued firing.
"Back! Go back!" McGee shouted, wincing in pain.
"Easy, McGee!" Tony shouted back. He clutched at the gearstick once more, ripping it backward into reverse and pressing his foot back down on the accelerator.
McGee reflexively slid down further down into his seat as he heard the fire of bullets begin to smash and crack closer against the glass and metal of the car. He felt one rip through the glass and tear right by his ear.
It was then that he heard the loud crack of a tyre puncturing. Tony desperately clutched at the wheel, spinning it in an attempt to regain control. But the car swerved out to the left under the pressure of the busted tyre before finally coming to a stop by slamming sideways into the car parked behind it.
The two agents were thrown hard against the body of the car, McGee against his window, and Tony against the dashboard. McGee felt a crack in his shoulder as he fractured the glass. His eyes were shut, though he could still feel the warm trickle of blood coming from just above his hairline. He coughed and spluttered and tried to regain his composure, although the world was still spinning in and out of focus. He heard a door click open behind them and made an attempt to move, although his body didn't seem to be responding to his own commands.
Then he heard two piercing gunshots.
He jolted to full consciousness and began painfully clutching at the handle beside him until it gave way under his fingers. He tumbled out of the car and onto the wet tarmac. He could see a crumpled body at the feet of one of the men standing on the other side. He drew his weapon and began firing at him. The figure dashed to the side and took cover behind another car. McGee kept firing in that direction, quickly looking to the ground and trying to identify the dark figure crumpled in a heap.
He mentally checked off that it wasn't Tony before realising that it was their suspect; the man that had been in the back of the car.
Then out of the corner of his eye he saw the driver of the van emerge wielding his own weapon and saw the new rain of automatic bullets begin to hit the car. Mentally numbing the pain in his shoulder, he lifted his Sig a little higher and fired two rounds, hearing the distant crack of metal piercing flesh. The driver felt to the ground in a heap. He reaimed his gun at where the other man had taken refuge and tried to fire, although his gun locked up. He cursed and leapt back behind the car. He reached into his pocket for another clip and began to struggle to reload. His fingers slipped over the gun and the cartridge, slick with blood and sweat, giving the attacker time to make it to the van and start up the engine.
McGee finally locked the clip in place and moved up from behind the car, discharging all but one round toward the back of the van. He cursed once more under his breath before returning to the driver's side of the car, intent on pursuing.
He stopped when he saw Tony's form slumped against the dashboard, gasping for air.
"Tony?" McGee shouted. "Tony!"
His partner's face was covered in blood, and either a hell of a lot of the fluid was acting under the pressure of gravity or he'd been shot in the chest as well. His shirt was soaked with it. He ripped open the car door and pulled Tony from the car, completely ignoring or momentarily forgetting any training he'd been given about this sort of accident.
"Tony!" he yelled once again, now laying him sprawled out on the tarmac. He touched a hand to his partner's chest, and his fingers came away wet, sticky and crimson. He looked at them with a great expression of puzzlement on his face, as if he had never seen or expected to see anything so odd as Tony's own blood coming out with such speed. He looked down at Tony and then back at his fingers. A red drop of blood swelled and dropped to McGee's cuff where it blossomed and grew.
He leant down and put a hand to Tony's face. "Oh my God, Tony, Tony," he said. "Can you hear me?"
Tony could barely register where he was, let alone concentrate so much as to reply to that odd sounding noise pummelling through his ears. His throat was already sore from desperately clutching and grasping at any piece of air that was attempting to travel to his lungs, and he could now feel a liquid beginning to rise in place of it. It could be either of two things, blood or bile. He wasn't sure which he preferred.
He could see a figure of some description hovering above him, and he could definitely feel something whacking against the side of his face. Maybe that's what was causing him all this pain on the side of his head. That damned whacking. He tried to lean his head up to make it stop, but a searing white-hot knot clawed at his temple and he felt his head slammed back down hard against the ground by some invisible force.
McGee placed his hand just above Tony's mouth. There was something there. He was still breathing. But only just.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cell and dialled 911. He told the operator their location and situation, before pressing the second button on his speed dial.
Even just the sound of Gibbs' voice relaxed him a little.
He repeated the same information before quickly hanging up. He then tore his jacket off and began ripping at the sleeves. The two came away after considerable force as he cursed himself for thinking to buy the expensive and therefore durable jacket. He crumpled the body of the jacket up into a mess of a ball and pressed it hard against the deep red stain on Tony's chest. He could see Tony's eyes flicker backward into his head and McGee reached down and whacked him hard on the cheekbone. "Tony!" he yelled. "Tony, you have to stay with me!"
That figure was whacking him again. He was sure it was the figure now. ‘Stop it!' he wanted to say. ‘I'm in enough pain already here, you idiot, stop hitting me!'
Then he felt something press harder into his chest and his mind went blank.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Two agents are caught in an attack, with dire consequences for both. The two victims and the rest of the team struggle to readjust in the fallout.