ShuriyuCSI
Judge
Re: Bring It On Home To Me
Tony grinned and nearly jumped for joy when Gibbs said that. He soon headed to the elevator and began his ascent to the main floor, just about running to his car to begin the scope down in the south end of Washington D.C. It took a maximum of about half an hour to get down to the ‘drug quarter’, five red lights included. Tony parked a couple streets over and emerged from his car to walk towards his destination.
It was then he noticed that it was just about nightfall, and he could possibly be there all night. Oh great, he thought as he hugged his jacket closer. Tony spotted an alleyway close to the apartment building on Pennington, deciding to hide out in the shadows there. He took one glance at the photo of the suspect in hand before slipping the picture into the inside pocket of his jacket. It was just seconds later that he heard the unmistakable ‘click’ of a gun.
“Turn around, and I’ll shoot. Hands out to your sides, pretty boy,” the man behind Tony had hissed. The man didn’t reek of alcohol or drugs.
Tony reluctantly did as he was told, choosing not to get capped by the gunman. Tony felt the man’s hands all over him, removing his gun and his badge. Ah, crap… This is my lucky day, he thought grimly. It was only seconds later that the man had found Tony’s back-ups and slipped them into his own pockets.
“So… Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, is it? How would you like to have a little fun? Don’t turn around, or I shoot,” the man said firmly.
Tony didn’t say a word. The man reached out and blindfolded Tony and soon cuffed Tony’s hands together, with his own handcuffs no less. Tony was just about ready to start swearing in Italian when he was shoved roughly towards a van parked in the back of the alley and into the back. His head wound up hitting something with an edge, not able to break his fall since his hands were bound. Tony groaned lightly when he felt a trickle of blood start running down his forehead, and he began to wonder what the hell was going to happen to him.
Note to self: Always bring back-up, Tony now thought ruefully. He could have fought back, but he wasn’t exactly the one with the guns in his hands. It was then the inevitable happened. Tony was gagged and soon his clothes were stripped from him. Those two hours that Tony was captive scarred him worse than anything, mentally and physically.
After the man had had his fun, Tony was uncuffed and the gag removed. He started cursing and yelling loudly but he was only thrown back out onto the cold, hard concrete of the alleyway. He lied there in a heap, just happy to be free again, not even thinking of removing the blindfold and looking at the van for it’s plates, or anything of the sort. Tony figured he had been lying there for at least fifteen minutes after he was (and if you haven’t gotten it now) raped and dumped back out.
Tony pushed himself up, head pounding, and his body aching. Home. That was all he thought as he haphazardly fixed up his appearance, not bothering to tuck in his shirt, he didn’t care past that point. Tony staggered back to his car and got in, fishing out his keys and beginning the long drive back to NCIS. Needless to say, he was uncomfortable sitting down. He didn’t even realize he was back at NCIS until he found himself inside the elevator, vaguely wondering how many red lights he ran. It didn’t matter; it was ten in the evening by now anyways.
Tony soon found himself back in the building’s bullpen, looking around at the desks, eyes scanning over McGee’s, Gibbs’ and his own. Finally it landed on Kate’s empty desk. He dropped his gaze to the floor as he made it over to Gibbs’ desk.
“Boss… I couldn’t find the suspect. Never showed,” Tony lied. He looked like he’d been dragged through the streets by his ankles, with his clothes in disarray, along with the long forgotten gash on his forehead (though it had stopped bleeding by now). His jacket was just about to fall from his shoulders, one side being pulled to the side and held there by an empty gun holster. Tony’s gun and back up had been taken, but his ID had been replaced back into his pocket.
Tony didn’t wait for a response from Gibbs. Instead he dragged himself over to his desk and eased himself down into the chair and fished for some painkillers. All he wanted to do was go out, get drunk, and forget anything had ever happened. His face looked worn and his posture didn’t straighten at all when he sat down. Tony felt dirty. All he wanted to do was to go home and have a long, hot shower.
Tony grinned and nearly jumped for joy when Gibbs said that. He soon headed to the elevator and began his ascent to the main floor, just about running to his car to begin the scope down in the south end of Washington D.C. It took a maximum of about half an hour to get down to the ‘drug quarter’, five red lights included. Tony parked a couple streets over and emerged from his car to walk towards his destination.
It was then he noticed that it was just about nightfall, and he could possibly be there all night. Oh great, he thought as he hugged his jacket closer. Tony spotted an alleyway close to the apartment building on Pennington, deciding to hide out in the shadows there. He took one glance at the photo of the suspect in hand before slipping the picture into the inside pocket of his jacket. It was just seconds later that he heard the unmistakable ‘click’ of a gun.
“Turn around, and I’ll shoot. Hands out to your sides, pretty boy,” the man behind Tony had hissed. The man didn’t reek of alcohol or drugs.
Tony reluctantly did as he was told, choosing not to get capped by the gunman. Tony felt the man’s hands all over him, removing his gun and his badge. Ah, crap… This is my lucky day, he thought grimly. It was only seconds later that the man had found Tony’s back-ups and slipped them into his own pockets.
“So… Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, is it? How would you like to have a little fun? Don’t turn around, or I shoot,” the man said firmly.
Tony didn’t say a word. The man reached out and blindfolded Tony and soon cuffed Tony’s hands together, with his own handcuffs no less. Tony was just about ready to start swearing in Italian when he was shoved roughly towards a van parked in the back of the alley and into the back. His head wound up hitting something with an edge, not able to break his fall since his hands were bound. Tony groaned lightly when he felt a trickle of blood start running down his forehead, and he began to wonder what the hell was going to happen to him.
Note to self: Always bring back-up, Tony now thought ruefully. He could have fought back, but he wasn’t exactly the one with the guns in his hands. It was then the inevitable happened. Tony was gagged and soon his clothes were stripped from him. Those two hours that Tony was captive scarred him worse than anything, mentally and physically.
After the man had had his fun, Tony was uncuffed and the gag removed. He started cursing and yelling loudly but he was only thrown back out onto the cold, hard concrete of the alleyway. He lied there in a heap, just happy to be free again, not even thinking of removing the blindfold and looking at the van for it’s plates, or anything of the sort. Tony figured he had been lying there for at least fifteen minutes after he was (and if you haven’t gotten it now) raped and dumped back out.
Tony pushed himself up, head pounding, and his body aching. Home. That was all he thought as he haphazardly fixed up his appearance, not bothering to tuck in his shirt, he didn’t care past that point. Tony staggered back to his car and got in, fishing out his keys and beginning the long drive back to NCIS. Needless to say, he was uncomfortable sitting down. He didn’t even realize he was back at NCIS until he found himself inside the elevator, vaguely wondering how many red lights he ran. It didn’t matter; it was ten in the evening by now anyways.
Tony soon found himself back in the building’s bullpen, looking around at the desks, eyes scanning over McGee’s, Gibbs’ and his own. Finally it landed on Kate’s empty desk. He dropped his gaze to the floor as he made it over to Gibbs’ desk.
“Boss… I couldn’t find the suspect. Never showed,” Tony lied. He looked like he’d been dragged through the streets by his ankles, with his clothes in disarray, along with the long forgotten gash on his forehead (though it had stopped bleeding by now). His jacket was just about to fall from his shoulders, one side being pulled to the side and held there by an empty gun holster. Tony’s gun and back up had been taken, but his ID had been replaced back into his pocket.
Tony didn’t wait for a response from Gibbs. Instead he dragged himself over to his desk and eased himself down into the chair and fished for some painkillers. All he wanted to do was go out, get drunk, and forget anything had ever happened. His face looked worn and his posture didn’t straighten at all when he sat down. Tony felt dirty. All he wanted to do was to go home and have a long, hot shower.
Was that good or bad? )